LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    *    *    *    *    * 


EVEN  SISTER  ELEPHANTOPUS  AMAZONIA  WAS  THERE 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS 


BY 

ROYAL  DIXON 

Author  of  "The  Human  Side  of  Plants,"  etc. 

WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 

L.  S.  GEER 


PHILADELPHIA 

GEORGE  W.  JACOBS  &  COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    *    *    *    *    *    » 


Copyright,  1915,  by 
GEORGE  W.  JACOBS  &  COMPANY 

Published  June,  1915 


All  rights  reserved 
Printed  in  U.  S.  A. 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS 


To  my  friend 
RAYMOND  COMSTOCK 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    «*    *    *    *    * 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    *•.>.-•*'•'•*••.* 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  HANTS  Is  EVERYWHARES  .      .      .      .     n 

II  CUPID'S  PROGNOSTICATIONS     ...     22 

III  WATCH  ME,  WIMMEN;  WATCH  ME!     34 

IV  VENGEANCE  AM  SWEET!   ....     46 

V  LUCIDATIONS     ON     LOVE        ....       63 

VI  JEST  MIDDLIN'  PEART 90 

VII  KAINT  BE  FO'CED in 

VIII  SISTAH  SIMMONS'  TROUSSEAU  TRIP   .    123 

IX  B'LEEVES  POW'FULLY  IN  MARRIAGE     137 

X  SISTAH   SIMMONS'   SANCTIFICATION    .    159 

XI  How  VINEY  CUM  THROUGH  .      .      .188 

XII  DONE  GONE  AND  FO'CED  ME!   .      .  200 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    •*    *    *    #    * 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    «*    #    *    * 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Even    Sister    Elephantopus    Amazonia 

was    there Frontispiece 


FACING 
PAGE 


She  scrummaged  over  chairs  and  benches  like  a 

squirrel 20 

"I  sees  a  weddin',  shoo  I  does!"     ....  30 

"Doin'  a  little  gardenin'  on  de  Sabbath  Day?"  36 

She  made  just  one  grab  at  him 48 

"I'm  ready  for  dat  chariot  to  come !"     .  72 

"I'se  gwine  to  come  every  night"     ....  106 

"Yo'  ain't  gwine  to  put  all  dem  t'ings  in  my 

machine?"         130 

"Hit's  too  bad,  but  I  must  bleed  dis  po'  co'pse"  152 
"Yo'  sholy  ain't  gwine  to  kill  me?"     .      .      .182 

"Glory!    Glory!    I've  got  it  at  las' !"   ...  196 

Every  imaginable  good  thing  to  eat     .      .      .  206 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    * 


HANTS  IS  EVERYWHARES    «*    * 


CHAPTER  I 

HANTS  IS  EVERYWHARES 

hants  has  sholy  diskivered  me 
at  las',  Miss  Betty,"  said  Aunt 
Moriah,  ashen-faced  and  trembling  with 
emotion,  as  her  young  mistress  entered 
the  dining  room.  "I  declar'  to  goodness 
de  sun  never  gwine  to  sot  on  my  haid 
again  in  dat  kitchen!" 

"What  is  the  matter,  Aunt  Moriah?" 
asked  Betty. 

"De  mattah  is  dis — dat  fool  dog  Bulger 
done  fotched  de  mos'  curus  lookin'  var 
mint  in  dat  kitchen  I  ever  hearn  tell  of  in 
all  my  born  days.  Pruneville  is  got  mo' 
hoodoos  den  any  place  I  ever  seed, 
ii 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    «*    «*    «*    *    *    * 

Hants  is  everywhares.  Good  Gord!  dat 
quaar  lookin'  thing  had  long  gray  har  on 
its  tail,  and  its  legs  looked  jes'  like  sassa 
fras  bean  poles ;  its  ears  stood  up  like  two 
little  tombstones,  and  dem  eyes  .  .  .  he'p 
me  Lawd!  Dey  starred  right  at  me,  as  if 
to  say,  'Moriah  Simmons,  wharfo'  am  yo' 
heahF  Lordy,  Lordy,  what  if  dat  rap 
scallion  wid  dem  jelly  draps  of  sorrer  in 
its  eyes  had  goofed  at  me?  ...  I  was 
mos'  skeered  to  deaff!  No  mo'  cookin' 
fo'  me  in  any  place  whar  hants  has  actu 
ally  materialized;  fo'  signs  is  signs." 

Betty  heard  sounds  of  laughter  from 
outside.  She  glanced  quickly  through 
the  window  just  in  time  to  see  two  figures 
scrambling  over  the  garden  fence.  She 
realized  at  once  what  had  happened. 
Henry  and  Bert,  returning  from  their 
hunting  trip,  had  propped  up  the  wolf 
12 


HANTS  IS  EVERYWHARES    *    * 

they  had  killed,  in  the  old  negress's 
kitchen.  But  the  girl  tried  in  vain  to 
convince  Aunt  Moriah  of  the  absurdity 
of  her  superstitious  belief.  As  a  last  re 
sort  she  appealed  to  her  sympathetic  na 
ture. 

"Surely,  Aunt  Moriah,  you  would  not 
leave  us  at  this  time,  would  you?  I  have 
already  invited  my  friend,  Mr.  Neill,  the 
artist,  to  dinner.  As  you  know,  it  would 
be  impossible  to  get  any  one  to  do  the 
cooking  at  this  late  hour.  No  one  but 
you  can  fix  things  right." 

Aunt  Moriah  was  silent  a  minute  and 
Betty  thought  she  had  touched  the  right 
chord,  but  the  old  negress  began, — 

"Lord  bless  yo'  heart,  Miss  Betty,  yo' 
knows  ef  dey  was  enybody  in  dis  worl'  I 
would  stay  fo'  hit  would  be  you.  Kase  I 
done  fetched  you  up,  and  you  and  my  po' 

13 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS 


little  Abe  was  born  on  de  same  day  jes' 
like  twinses.  Po'  little  boy,  I  guess  he's 
playing  wif  de  little  angel  chillen,  look- 
in'  white  as  any  of  dem.  Ef  I  could  a' 
got  dar  in  time  when  Hiram  Green's 
mule  kicked  him,  I  mout  a'  saved  him 
wif  prayer  and  mustard,  but  hit  'twas  too 
late.  Honey,  don't  you  know  I  some 
times  'magines  I  can  almos'  see  little  Abe 
playing  wif  dem  soap  bubbles  and  laffin' 
right  at  me  when  I  stands  by  de  wash  tub. 
"But  I  ain't  told  you  'bout  dem  pun-' 
kins.  'Tother  day  as  I  was  passin'  by 
dat  smoke  house  door,  not  thinkin'  'bout 
nothin',  I  seed  twenty-three  punkins  all 
sottin'  in  a  row  wif  two  terrible  lookin' 
bones  crossed  in  front  of  dem.  Nothin' 
but  a  hant  could  fix  'em  dat  way.  I  was 
mos'  skeered  to  deafT.  I'se  sholy  leavin' 
dis  place  to-day.  I  fears  heavenly  ven- 


HANTS  IS  EVERYWHARES    *    * 

jans  will  be  heaped  on  me  ef  I  stays." 
"Nonsense,  Aunt  Moriah,  you  are  not 

going  to  leave  us  after  having  been  here 

eighteen  years." 

"Yes,  I  is  gwine.     Dis  ain't  no  time  fo' 


argifyin'  and  disputin'.  What  I  sez,  I 
sez,  fer  signs  is  signs!" 

"I  assure  you  it  is  only  some  more  of 
Bert's  mischievous  pranks.  No  harm 
can  come  from  a  dead  wolf." 

"From  a  dead  wolf!  A  mouty  heap 
of  harm,  if  dat  dead  wolf  is  a  dead  hant. 
Huh,  I'd  jes'  as  soon  boad  in  a  graveyard 
15 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS 


as  in  dat  kitchen,"  she  sighed  as  she 
mopped  the  perspiration  from  her  fore 
head. 

Aunt  Moriah's  appearance  was  pitiful  ; 
her  careworn  face  seemed  ten  years  older 
than  the  day  before.  Her  voice  was 
filled  with  emotion  as  she  said: 

"Well,  honey,  hit  'pears  like  everything 
is  gwine  'ginst  me  of  late.  I  has  sich  a 
misery  in  my  lef  knee  jint,  I  spose  I'll 
have  to  git  me  some  mo'  goose  ile.  Dey 
sez  goose  ile  is  pow'ful  good  fo'  ailments. 
Yessum,  hit  seems  like  trubbles  comes  like 
twins  or  triplets,  never  alone.  All  dem 
little  chickens  is  got  de  pip  jes'  cause  I 
forgot  to  shake  de  sifter  over  dem  when 
dey  first  hatched  out,  and  a  hawk  flew 
down  yestiddy  and  caught  de  bigges', 
blackes',  goldernes'  pullet  we  got.  I 
throwed  skillets  and  pans  at  him,  but 
16 


HANTS  IS  EVERYWHARES    *    * 

'twarnt'  no  use,  he  done  nibbed  her. 
Yessum,  I'm  feelin'  mouty  po'ly  to-day, 
I  done  worked  too  hard  at  dat  chuch  fes 
tival  las'  week.  I  spose  I  wouldn't 
'zerted  myself  so  much,  but  Brudder  Sin- 
killer  is  a  po'  widderer  and  I  feels  so 
sorry  for  him,  bein'  as  I  am  a  po'  lone 
Christian  widder  myself.  But  dis  day 
warn't  made  for  talkin' ;  hit  was  made  for 
movin',  I  mus'  obey  dem  signs." 

"I'm  awfully  sorry,  Aunt  Moriah,  that 
you're  not  feeling  as  well  as  usual.  Now 
tell  me  what  else  those  boys  have  been 
doing  to  worry  you." 

She  had  walked  to  the  window,  and 
after  hesitating  a  minute  heaved  a  sigh 
as  she  said: 

"Dey  ain't  specially  pestered  me,  but 
I  would  like  to  know  who  fixed  dem  pun- 
kins  in  a  row." 

17 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    *    *    #    *    *    * 

" Pumpkins  1     What  do  you  mean?" 
"Jes'    come    wif    me    to    dat    smoke 
house,    honey,    and   you'll    see   what    I 


means." 


"Don't  let  yourself  be  disturbed  by 
such  foolish  superstitions!  Perhaps  Bert 
did  it,  just  to  aggravate  you." 

Then,  to  please  her,  Betty  walked  arm 
and  arm  with  her  to  the  smoke  house 
door. 

Sure  enough,  there  were  twenty-three 
pumpkins,  neatly  arranged  in  a  row,  and 
in  front  of  them  near  the  door  lay  two 
big  bones  crossed.  Aunt  Moriah  made 
another  awful  discovery! 

"Well,  I  'clar  fo'  Gord  ef  dem  bones 
ain't  kivered  in  blood.  I  wouldn't  tech 
a  thing  in  dis  smoke  house  for  all  de 
money  in  Pruneville,  for  signs  is  signs." 

Then  making  a  cross-mark  in  the  sand 
18 


HANTS  IS  EVERYWHARES 


with  her  foot,  she  spat  in  it  and  walked 
quickly  back  to  the  kitchen. 

Things  were  indeed  wrong!  Some 
thing  had  to  be  done,  Betty  decided,  and 
done  at  once,  for 
Aunt  Moriah  had 
packed  everything  of 
hers  from  a  feather 
bed  to  a  favorite  cal 
ico  quilt.  Used  to 


her  moods  as  Betty  was,  the  situation  wor 
ried  her. 

It  was   late   Saturday  afternoon,   and 

Bert  could  not  resist  the  temptation  to 

play  his  final  prank.     Anticipating  that 

Aunt  Moriah  would  go  to  the  little  log 

19 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    *    *    #    *    *    # 

cabin  church,  as  usual,  for  prayers,  he 
preceded  her,  taking  with  him  an  old 
speaking  trumpet  and  concealing  himself 
behind  one  of  the  benches.  Sure  enough, 
she  came,  and  began  a  long  prayer: 

".  .  .  Yea,  though  I  walks  troo  de 
valley  of  de  shadow  of  deafT,  I'll  fear  no 
Debil.  I  want  you  to  pint  out  de  bes' 
way  for  me,  Lord,  and  tell  me  what  to 
do." 

At  this  moment,  as  if  from  every  cor 
ner  of  the  little  church  came  a  rumbling, 
bellowing  sound,  which  Aunt  Moriah  al 
ways  vowed  to  be  the  "rushin'  of  a  mighty 
wind,"  and  a  deep  voice  intoned: 

"Moriah  Simmons,  stay  with  the  Mor 
gans,  and  be  kind  to  little  Bert!" 

That  was  too  much  for  Aunt  Moriah! 
Old  as  she  was,  she  scrummaged  over 
chairs  and  benches  like  a  squirrel,  and 
20 


SHE  SCRUMMAGED  OVER  CHAIRS  AND  BENCHES  LIKE  A  SQUIRREL 


HANTS  IS  EVERYWHARES    *    * 

fifteen  minutes  later  was  back  in  the 
kitchen,  paring  potatoes  for  supper,  ap 
parently  entirely  satisfied.  She  felt  that 
the  Lord  had  spoken  to  her.  And  when 
she  saw  Betty  she  said,  in  a  tone  of  utter, 
absolute  finality : 

"Honey,  I  has  decided  to  stay,  kase 
de  signs  is  changed." 


21 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS  '  *    *    *    *    *    * 


i 


CHAPTER  II 

CUPID'S  PROGNOSTICATIONS 

T  had  been  an  unusual  week  at 
the  Morgans'  home.  Betty's  lover, 
Henry  Neill,  had  spent  the  entire  week 
with  them,  and  on  this  day  he  was  to 
leave.  As  he  and  Bert  drove  off  to  the 
station,  he  waved  a  fond  farewell  to 
Betty,  and  Bert  threw  her  a  kiss  in  jest. 
Betty  rushed  to  the  kitchen  to  tell  Aunt 
Moriah  all  about  his  wonderful  paint 
ings,  and  his  charming  conversation:  to 
find  a  sure  and  ready  listener  to  her 
happy  confidences,  in  fact. 

Since  Mrs.  Morgan's  death,  Aunt  Mo 
riah  had  assumed  the  entire  guardianship 
22 


CUPID'S  PROGNOSTICATIONS 

of  Betty  and  Bert.  She  never  refused 
either  of  them  a  hearing  when  they  came 
to  her  with  secrets — most  important 
and  never-to-be-repeated  secrets,  of 
course,  about  their  love  affairs.  Her  old- 
fashioned  kitchen,  with  its  white  floors 
and  spotless  big  table,  near  which  sat  her 
aged  spinning-wheel,  the  hum  of  which 
had  accompanied  many  of  her  "white 
chillen's"  confessions,  was  really  a  place 
of  miracles.  Many  were  the  troubles 
she  had  listened  to  there,  and,  with 
comforting  words,  had  added,  as  a  final 
balm  of  consolation,  ginger  bread  and 
coffee  of  her  own  making.  And  many  a 
time,  as  children,  had  they  entered  its 
sacred  walls  to  unburden  their  hearts,  and 
had  left  it  with  fresh  hopes  and  smiling 
faces.  But  now  childish  troubles,  of  toys 
and  marbles,  had  passed  away — and 

23 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    *    *    <*    *    *    * 

greater  ones  had  taken  their  places.  It 
was  no  longer  broken  dolls — but  broken 
hearts,  forsooth! 

In  the  last  few  months  Betty  was  a 
different  girl:  something  had  changed 
her  completely.  Her  voice  seemed  to 
have  suddenly  grown  more  musical,  and 
her  soft  brown  eyes  had  more  of  a  sparkle ; 
they  showed  more  sympathy,  more  love, 
more  hope, — new  eyes!  Never  before 


had  she  cared  so  much  for  the  roses  and 
the  mocking  birds;  nor  could  she  speak 
long  without  mention  of  Henry  Neill. 
Aunt  Moriah,  of  course,  knew  from  the 
24 


CUPID'S  PROGNOSTICATIONS 

look  in  Betty's  eyes  that  a  transformation 
was  taking  place  in  her  heart.  Betty  was 
no  longer  a  child.  It  was  not  just  some 
neighbor's  son,  an  old  school  friend,  but 
Henry  Neill,  the  handsome  young  artist 
from  New  Orleans,  who  was  making  this 
change  in  Betty;  and  Aunt  Moriah  knew 
only  too  well  that  he  was  not  coming  three 
hundred  miles  without  serious  intentions. 
On  this  occasion  the  old  negress  was  out 
spoken  in  her  sympathy. 

"You  jest  looks  like  you  was  longin'  to 
tell  me  somethin',  honey,"  said  Aunt  Mo 
riah.  "I  bleeves  Mistah  Neill  is  in  love 
wid  you." 

Betty  insisted  upon  knowing  on  what 
ground  she  based  her  opinion,  whereupon 
Aunt  Moriah  declared: 

"He  smiled  at  you  in  sich  a  winsome 
way,  and  dem  big  blue  eyes  of  his'n  jest 
25 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    *    *    *    *    ji    * 

followed  you  everywhares  you  went,  like 
a  butterfly  after  de  honeysuckle,  when  you 
was  gatherin'  dem  roses." 

"Well,  I  do  like  him,"  said  Betty  blush- 
ingly.  "And  he  wishes  to  come  again 
next  month ;  but  for  some  strange  reason 
father  doesn't  seem  to  care  for  him.  Per 
haps  it  is  because  he  is  not  a  business  man 
and  set  on  making  money.  Father  seems 
to  think  that  painting  is  for  women,  with 
lots  of  time  on  their  hands,  and  no  other 
work  to  do.  But  I  know  Mr.  Neill  will 
become  a  great  artist,"  she  ended  reflec 
tively,  as  she  gazed  out  of  the  window 
into  the  distance. 

Aunt  Moriah  had  listened  in  silence, 
and  her  face  wore  an  expression  of  the 
greatest  seriousness.  Finally  she  spoke 
up: 

"Lawdy  marcy,  chile!     Money  haint 
26 


CUPID'S  PROGNOSTICATIONS 

the  hull  thing,  quality  counts  in  our  fam 
ily!  And  dem  Neills  sholy  is  got  it!"  she 
asserted  with  a  dignified  wave  of  the 
hand.  "Dese  heah  folks  at  Pruneville 
ain't  never  seed  de  real  thing,"  she 
explained  condescendingly.  Betty,  of 
course,  accepted  the  dictum  with  due  con 
sideration. 

"Lawdy,  yes,  I'se  knowed  Henry  Neill 
since  he  wasn't  bigger  than  a  cucumber. 
I  use  to  tote  him  round  in  my  arms  nussin' 
and  motherin'  him.  He  was  de  sweetest, 
teensiest,  little  baby  I  ever  seed.  I  done 
told  his  maw  dat  he  was  gwine  to  grow  up 
to  be  a  pow'ful  man,  and  marry  some 
queen  jest  like  you.  I  knowed  hit  all  de 
time.  He  was  sholy  bo'n  for  greatness! 
I  ain't  sprised  dat  he  am  an  artist,  kase 
every  time  he  could  git  to  de  ink  bottle 
after  he  was  done  growin'  up,  he'd  jest 
27 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS 


smear  hit  all  over  creation,  and  make  the 
quaarest  lookin'  things.  Dem  was  de 
signs  of  de  future  jenius;  shore  as  I'm 
bo'n  dem  was  hit! 

"One  day  he  done  drawed  a  big  dorg 
on  my  white  apron  wid  a  little  goose 
fedder,  while  I  was  churnin'.  His  maw 
wanted  to  whip  him,  but  I  'lowed  de 
artist  had  to  have  somethin'  to  paint  on. 
I  told  his  maw  dat  he  was  jest  as  shoo  to 
be  an  artist  as  a  goose  is  shoo  to  hatch 
outen  a  goose  egg.  And  I  don't  see  no 
reason  why  he  wouldn't  make  you  a  pow'- 
ful  good  husband. 

"Co'se,  I  ain't  going  to  be  hard  on 
Marse  Lije's  jedgment,  but  I  speck  yo' 
paw  done  forgot  when  he  was  co'tin'  Miss 
Fannie,  yo'  maw.  He  was  allus  comin' 
to  me  fo'  advice,  kase  he  was  so  young 
dat  he  hadn't  perambulated  too  far  wif 
28 


CUPID'S  PROGNOSTICATIONS 

Solomon.     I    knowed    his    family    long 
befo'  he  was  bo'n. 

"Yo'  grandma  and  me  done  growed  up 
together.  We  was  bo'n  almost  on  de  same 
day.  My  mammy  nussed  bofe  of  us  de 
same  time.  What  one  got,  de  tother  shoo 
got  some!  When  one  cry,  we  bofe  cry. 
Ah,  many  de  times  we  played  together 
makin'  frog-houses  in  de  sand! 

"Po'  Miss  Fannie,  hit's  many  de  weary 
day  since  dey  laid  her  to  rest  over  dar  on 
de  hillside.  But,  law  chile,  I  sees  her 
yit;  wif  her  big  brown 
eyes,  an'  smilin'  face,  an' 
dainty  hands!" 

The  old  negress  gazed 
out    of    the   window    as 
though    she    was    living 
over  the  days  gone  by. 
Then  she  continued  as  she  chuckled  aloud : 
29 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    *    #    *    *    #    # 

"I  recomember  when  Marse  Lije  fust 
met  old  mistus.  Hit  warn't  no  time  till 
he  commence  a-co'tin'  her.  Den  he  led 
her  to  de  altar;  and  den  he  'membered 
dem  scriptures  what  sez,  To'  must  multi 
ply  and  replentish  de  yearth';  and  yo' 
and  Marse  Bert  was  given  as  his  'lowance. 

"Marse  Lije  'gins  to  prosper  and  make 
lots  of  money;  den  troubles  and  tribula 
tions  come,  and  one  day  de  angels  come 
down  and  got  yo'  maw.  De  very  last 
thing  she  sez  to  me  was:  'Moriah,  take 
care  of  Betty  and  Bert.'  Lawd  he'p  me, 
dat's  what  I'm  tryin'  to  do;  fo'  I  is  a  strict 
member  of  de  Zion  Evangelical  Chu'ch." 

"But  about  Mr.  Neill?"  said  Betty. 

"Oh,   yessum,    I   likes   Henry  Neill's 

looks!     And  if  Marse  Lije  don't  watch 

out  I'll  have  to  remind  him  dat  I  is  yo' 

mammy."     The  tears  had  come  to  Aunt 

30 


"I  SEES  A  WEDDIN',  SHOO  I  DOES  !' 


CUPID'S  PROGNOSTICATIONS 

Moriah's  eyes,  but  she  tried  to  keep  them 
back  by  changing  the  subject. 

"Honey,  won't  you  have  a  nice  cup  of 
hot  coffee?  Hit  won't  take  but  a  minute 
to  bile  it." 

Betty  nodded  her  head,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  Aunt  Moriah  poured  her  a  cup 
of  delicious  hot  coffee.  Betty's  mind  was 
on  her  victory  and  her  heart  beat  high, 
for  Aunt  Moriah's  sympathy  was  per 
petual,  and  surely  the  two  could  change 
her  father's  views  concerning  Henry 
Neill. 

Aunt  Moriah  had  just  finished  pouring 
Betty's  coffee  when  the  idea  of  reading 
the  grounds  occurred  to  her. 

"Lemme  see  what's  gwine  to  happen," 
said  the  old  negress,  as  she  reached  for 
the  cup. 

"Oh,  please  do!"  cried  Betty.     At  this 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS 


moment  she  looked  out  of  the  window, 
and  saw  her  brother  had  returned,  and 
had  some  sort  of  an  animal,  apparently 
his  pet  raccoon,  tucked  under  his  arm. 
From  the  grin  on  Bert's  face,  she  won 
dered  what  was  up.  But  the  incident 
was  soon  forgotten  in  the  wonderful 
prophecies  seen  by  Aunt  Moriah  in  the 
coffee  grounds. 

"I  sees  a  weddin',  shoo  I  does!"  said 
Aunt  Moriah  in  tones  of  wonderment,  as 
she  lifted  her  eyes  to  Betty.  "De  bride 
groom  looks  pow'fully  like  Henry  Neill, 
and  he'p  me  Gawd!  I  b'leeves  you  is  de 
blushin'  bride.  Yessum,  shoo  as  I'm  bo'n 
you  is  hit!  Huh,  what  does  this  mean? 
—  I  sees  anudder  weddin'!  I  dunno 
what  de  tother  one  can  be;  but  hit  sholy 
do  look  like  de  groom  is  Brudder  Sin- 
killer  Sneezeweed!" 
32 


CUPID'S  PROGNOSTICATIONS 

With  a  glad  heart  Betty  arose  to  leave 
the  kitchen.  It  was  hard  for  her  to  re 
frain  from  asking  more  questions.  But 
Aunt  Moriah  had  always  been  a  prophet, 
and  there  was  no  reason  for  doubting  her 
now.  What  did  she  mean  about  Brother 
Sinkiller?  Surely  Aunt  Moriah  would 
not  marry  again!  But  Betty  was  so  full 
of  her  own  happiness  that  she  gave  no 
further  thought  to  the  second  part  of  the 
prophecy. 

She  walked  in  the  garden  and  hummed 
to  herself  in  nervous  exultation.  A  smile 
of  fathomless  content  beamed  from  her 
face  as  she  watched  the  last  red  rays  of 
the  sun  disappear  over  the  pine  hills. 


33 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    *    *    *    *    * 


CHAPTER  III 

WATCH  ME,  WIMMEN !     WATCH  ME ! 

ON  the  following  Sunday  morning 
Aunt  Moriah  was  walking  casually 
through  her  flower  garden,  when  she  no 
ticed  that  the  weeds  and  grass  were 
crowding  out  her  favorite  dahlias.  For 
getful  of  the  day,  she  began  pulling  up 
the  weeds.  At  this  moment  she  suddenly 
heard  footsteps,  and,  looking  up,  saw 
Brother  Sinkiller  Sneezeweed,  the  pastor 
of  the  Zion  Evangelical  Church,  not  ten 
feet  away,  watching  her  through  the  rail 
ings. 

"Mornin',   Sistah  Simmons,"  he  said, 
raising  his  battered  silk  hat,  given  him 

34 


WATCH  ME,  WIMMEN!     *    *    «* 

by  his  old  master  in  slavery  days.  His 
face  plainly  showed  embarrassment  at  his 
discovery  of  Sabbath-breaking.  "How  is 
you  dis  beautiful  Sabbath  mornin'?" 
He  had  a  dignified,  ministerial  tone  in  his 
aged  voice. 

"I'm  jest  poly,"  replied  Aunt  Moriah, 
nervously. 

"How  am  Miss  Betty?" 

"She's  jest  poly." 

"How  am  Mistah  Morgan?" 

"He's  jest  poly." 

The  old  negress  was  mortified  at  hav 
ing  been  caught  working  in  her  garden 
on  Sunday!  It  was  the  first  time  in  her 
life  that  she  had  committed  such  a  crime. 

"How  am  Master  Bert?" 

"He's  jest  poly." 

"Doin'  a  little  gardenin'  on  de  Sabbath 
day,  be  ye,  Sistah  Simmons?"  His  tones 
35 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS 


were  sympathetic;  he  nervously  thumped 

on  the  palings. 

"I  jest  caught  a  little  grass  on  my  shoes, 

Brudder  Sinkiller,"  said  Aunt  Moriah, 

apologetically. 
The  pastor  of  the  Zion   Evangelical 

Church  looked  worried. 
"How   air  you,    Brudder   Sinkiller?" 

queried  Aunt  Moriah,  mindful  of  the 

civilities  due  her  pastor. 

"I'm  jest  tolable,  bless  Gawd!" 
"How  air  yo'  old  gray  mare  mule?" 
"She's  jest  tolable,  bless  Gawd!" 
"How  air  yo'  young  Berkshire  shoats?" 
"Dey  all  tolable,  ceptin'  de  little  runt 

et    too    many    turnips    yestiddy,    and    I 

thought  sholy  we'd  have  fresh  sausage 

meat  to-day,  but  he's  done  got  ovah  hit." 
"Won't  you  come  roun'  to  de  kitchen 

and  have  a  cup  of  coffee  wif  me?" 
36 


'DoiN'  A  LITTLE  GARDENIN'  ON  DE  SABBATH  DAY?" 


WATCH  ME,  WIMMEN!     <*    *    J 

Brother  Sinkiller  responded  to  her  cor 
dial  invitation  by  walking  slowly  around 
the  garden  to  the  back  door.  He  seated 
himself  in  the  old  shuck-bottomed  chair 
proffered  him,  and,  while  Aunt  Moriah 
was  warming  over  the  cold  biscuits  and 
boiling  the  coffee,  he  busied  himself  by 
looking  at  the  comforts  of  the  kitchen. 
How  different  from  his  scantily  supplied 
hut! 

The  walls  were  covered  with  sausages 
hung  up  to  dry.  Strings  of  onions  and 
red  peppers  dangled  from  the  ceiling; 
barrels  of  sugar  and  molasses  stood  in  the 
corners,  and  above  the  big  stove  were  rows 
of  shelves  filled  with  jars  of  honey.  Nor 
did  Brother  Sinkiller's  observant  eyes  fail 
to  take  in  the  stalks  of  dried  tobacco  at 
the  farther  end  of  this  bountifully  sup 
plied  kitchen.  There  was  something  in 

37 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    #    #    <* 


the  very  atmosphere  that  made  him  re 
member  the  scripture  that  says:  "It  is 
not  well  for  man  to  be  alone." 

He  was  oppressed  and  sad,  for  ever 
since  his  last  wife,  Hannah,  had  died, 
things  had  been  different.  She  had  min 
istered  to  all 

J'i  s7®%g3H8    m"s  comforts; 

A,/  /         ,  ^—-r-r-^J    Hfl^Sa^Zaf^W 

w 
,/'**}&      T\     small  thing  as 
"M    ^/       ^>   \^   liehtine      his 

'I" 


pipe,  she  had  not  neglected.  But  now 
no  one  cared  for  him — that  is,  in  a  com 
forting  way.  Finally  Brother  Sneeze- 
weed  went  to  sleep  in  the  big  chair. 
Then  he  commenced  moaning  and  groan 
ing  in  the  most  pitiful  way.  Aunt  Mo- 

38 


WATCH  ME,  WIMMEN!     *    *    * 

riah  was  terribly  frightened,  and  thought 
he  was  dying.  She  hurried  to  him. 

"Lawdy!  Lawdy!  Brudder  Sneeze- 
weed,  what  am  de  mattah  wid  you?"  she 
exclaimed,  as  she  shook  him. 

"  'Scuse  me,  Sistah  Simmons,  I  was  jest 
havin'  one  of  dem  quaar  spells,  sorter  like 
de  nightmares.  I  sleeps  so  poly  dese 
nights  dat  when  I  does  git  a  chance  to 
have  any  real  comfot,  like  what  you  has 
offered  me,  I  goes  into  sech  a  restful  sleep 
dat  I  has  dem  moanin'  spells.  Dey  is 
what  mout  be  called  'lonesome  fits,'  dat 
is,  dey  is  caused  by  meditatin'  too  much 
alone." 

Now  that  he  was  out  of  all  danger, 
Aunt  Moriah  chuckled  with  laughter. 

"Bring  yo'  cheer  nearer  dis  table, 
Brudder  Sneezeweed,  and  satisfy  yo'  hun 
ger,  while  we  talks,"  said  his  hostess,  sym- 

39 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    #    *    *    #    #    * 

pathetically,  as  she  poured  the  steaming 
coffee. 

"  'Scuse  my  gigglin',  Brudder  Sneeze- 
weed,  I  sholy  didn't  feel  indifferent  to 
yo'  fits,  I  was  jest  so  comfoted  to  have  you 
heah,  dat  I  had  to  give  'spression  to  my 
joy!" 

"Dat's  all  right,  Sistah  Simmons,  dem 
is  pow'ful  funny  spells.  Yessum,  I'll 
have  a  little  of  dem  cabbages,  and  some 
mo'  of  dat  tater  pone.  Dem  spells — 
(jest  a  little  heppin'  of  dem  turnips,  and 
a  little  greens,  please,  mum).  As  I  was 
sayin',  dem  spells  is  caused  from  not  git- 
tin' —  (well,  fo'  Gawd,  ef  you  ain't  got 
chicken  leavin's!)  Yessum,  fits  is — is— 
(dat  bread  pone  is  pow'ful  sweet)." 

"Dis   heah   eatin's  makes   me   shame, 
Brudder   Sneezeweed,"  said  Aunt  Mo- 
riah,  apologetically.     "Since  my  last  po' 
40 


WATCH  ME,  WIMMEN1     *    *    * 

husband  died  I  has  been  so  'flicted  wid 
grief  dat  I'se  kinder  got  discouraged  wid 
everything.  Hits  a  wonder  dat  I  ain't 
had  dem  lonesome  fits  mysef.  I  s'pose 
you  know  what  it  am  to  have  sorrer?" 

"Dat  I  does,  Sistah  Simmons;  dat  I 
does !  I  has  comf oted  many  mo'ners,  and 
now  heah  I  is  a  broken  reed,  lookin'  fo' 
comfot  from  a  po'  lone  sorrerin'  Christian 
widder.  De  trufT  is,  I  ort  to  be  comfotin' 
you.  Dat  I  ort! 

"As  I  was  sayin'  'bout  dem  quaar  spells, 
hits  sorrer  dat  has  caused  'em;  dat  is,  sor 
rer  and  de  lack  ob  sleep  together." 

"Wharfo'  don't  you  sleep,  Brudder 
Sneezeweed?  Is  you  'flicted  wid  in- 
somonia,  or  does  you  kinder  git  lonesome 
fo'  some  real  gawdly  'oman  to  call  out 
scripture  to  comfo't  yo'  troubled  speer- 
its?" 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    *    *    *    *    jt    a 

"Dat's  de  trouble,  Sistah  Simmons; 
dat's  de  trouble!  You  has  prognosticated 
right.  I  needs  jest  sich  an  'oman.  I 
kicks  de  bed  kivers  on  de  floo',  and  nearly 
freezes  to  deaff.  When  I  gits  one  of  dem 
spells,  I  tares  all  over  de  room,  fittin'  de 
air.  I'm  an  awful  man  f er  to  be  around  I" 

"Does  you  take  anything  fo'  dem 
spells  ?"  asked  Aunt  Moriah. 

"Jest  'casionally  when  I  gits  'em  pow'- 
fully  bad,  den  I  takes  a  leetle  teenchy  bit 
of  toddy,  what  was  left  over  from  Sistah 
Sophronia  Snuffs  funeral  'settin'-up.'  " 

"Dey  says  a  little  toddy  is  pow'ful  good 
fo'  ailments,"  remarked  Aunt  Moriah. 

"Yes,  it  do  help  to  keep  yo'  speerits  up," 
he  added. 

"A  man  what  have  to  'zort  and  preach 
like  yo'  does,  needs  a  little  something  to 
spur  him  on.     But  what  you  needs  most, 
42 


WATCH  ME,  WIMMEN!     *    *    * 

Brudder  Sneezeweed,  is  a  good  'oman  to 
share  yo'  sorrers;  one  dat  has  knowed  sor- 
rer  herself.  Dat's  what  you  needs!" 

"Dat's  jest  what  I'm  going  to  git,  Sis- 
tah  Simmons,  soon  as  I  has  mo'ned  long 
enough  fo'  my  last  wife,  Hannah,"  said 
Brother  Sneezeweed,  as  he  reached  for 
his  hat. 

"Praise  Gawd  fo'  de  comfot  you 
has  been  to  me,  Brudder  Sneezeweed. 
Whenevah  you  finds  it  convenient  jest 
come  in  and  have  a  humble  little  snack 
of  vittles  wid  me;  and  if  you  feels  like 
hit,  call  out  a  little  scripture  to  comfot 
me.  I  is  sich  a  po'  lonely  Christen  wid- 
der  lady.  Dat's  de  real  'ligion,  to  be  com- 
fortin'  to  each  other  in  dey  trials  and 
tribulations;  and  visit  wid  de  widders 
and  orphins,"  she  moralized  as  she  gave 
him  a  parting  handshake. 

43 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    * 


#    * 


"May  de  Lawd  bless  you,  Sistah  Sim 
mons,  fo'  de  nourishin'  comfots  you  has 
done  gin  to  me,  and  fo'  de  Christen 
speerit  ip  which  it  has  been  given.  Now 

I  must  git 
over  to  de 
chuch  and 


preach  to  my  flock  from  de  tex'  'Blessed  is 
dey  dat  mo'n,  fo'  dey  shall  be  comfoted.' 
I'se  shoo  gwine  to  give  'em  a  pow'ful  ser 
mon!  I  hopes  to  see  you  back  in  church 
nex'  Sunday,  Sistah  Simmons.  Good 
bye,  beloved  Sistah,  good-bye." 

44 


WATCH  ME,  WIMMEN!     #    *    * 

With  this  as  a  farewell,  and  a  lingering 
handshake,  the  Reverend  Sinkiller  hastily 
disappeared  down  the  road  toward  the 
Zion  Evangelical  Church. 

Aunt  Moriah  watched  him  until  he 
disappeared  around  the  corner;  then  re 
turning  to  the  table,  she  began  clearing 
away  the  dishes. 

"Watch  me,  wimmen!  Watch  me!" 
she  exclaimed.  "Dis  old  lady  is  gwine  to 
walk  off  wif  dat  preacher!  I  'clar  fo' 
Gawd,  you  po'  old  widders  and  gals  ain't 
got  a  smidgen  of  a  chance  to  cop  dat 
preacher  long  as  I'm  onmarried!  Jest 
keep  de  dust  outen'  yo'  eyes,  and  yo'll  see 
dat  I  gits  him.  Huh !  hits  so  easy  to  kotch 
him  dat  I  almos'  hates  to  do  hit!"  she  said, 
as  she  chuckled  with  laughter. 


45 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS 


CHAPTER  IV 

VENGEANCE  AM  SWEET! 

AT  the  age  of  fourteen  Bert  Morgan 
had  been  sent  to  the  Academy  at 
San  Antonio,  a  boarding  school,  which 
was  supposed  to  divide,  as  between  term 
time  and  vacation,  the  responsibility  of 
guardianship  with  Aunt  Moriah.  There 
he  distinguished  himself  by  taking  the 
lead  in  the  most  disreputable  escapades 
the  Academy  had  ever  known!  Aunt 
Moriah  was  hardly  prepared  to  believe 
the  reported  stories  of  his  numerous 
pranks. 

After  his  return  from  school,  however, 
he  developed  a  special  weakness  for  tor- 


VENGEANCE  AM  SWEET!      *    <* 

menting  her.  This  was  easy  enough,  for 
she  seemed  to  have  associated  some  curi 
ous  fancy  with  almost  every  familiar  ob 
ject  of  her  daily  life;  and  the  most  trivial 
action  was  directed  by  reference  to  un 
seen  spirits  or  "hants,"  who  were  always 
on  the  lookout  for  an  opportunity  to  harm 
or  annoy  her. 

One  of  her  quaintest  beliefs  was  re 
garding  the  young  pet  raccoon,  which  a 
neighbor's  son  had  given  to  Bert.  No 
amount  of  persuasion  could  convince  her 
that  the  animal  was  not  a  reincarnation 
of  the  Devil.  This  fact  Bert  knew,  and 
his  readiness  to  take  advantage  of  it 
proved  to  be  the  main  grief  of  his  reli 
gious,  indulgent  and  ever  faithful  old 
"black  mammy." 

He  watched  for  an  opportunity  to  play 
another  prank  on  her,  as  his  last  one  with 

47 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    *    *    *    #    #    £ 

the  wolf  had  been  so  successful  as  to  win 
even  the  applause  of  Betty.  His  vigi 
lance  was  soon  rewarded. 

The  kitchen  door  shut  with  a  clash,  and 
Bert  saw  Aunt  Moriah,  with  a  basket  on 
her  arm,  going  toward  the  grocery  store. 
He  hastened  to  the  barn,  got  the  raccoon, 
returned  with  him  to  the  kitchen,  opened 
the  oven  door  and  placed  him  within. 
This  was  an  ideal  spot  for  the  coon,  warm, 
dark,  and  cozy,  like  his  home  in  the  old 
barrel  in  the  hay  loft.  In  this  warm 
place  he  soon  curled  up  and  went  to  sleep. 

After  a  while  in  came  Aunt  Moriah  to 
prepare  supper.  She  built  a  fire  in  the 
stove ;  then  washed  the  sweet  potatoes  pre 
paratory  to  baking,  as  she  hummed,  "The 
Old  Ship  of  Zion,"  to  the  accompaniment 
of  the  kettle.  She  bustled  to  the  stove, 
and  opened  the  door  where  the  coon  was 


SHE  MADE  JUST  ONE  GRAB  AT  HIM 


VENGEANCE  AM  SWEET!      *    * 

sleeping.  Out  he  jumped,  quick  as  light 
ning,  right  over  Aunt  Moriah's  head,  and 
rushed  through  the  kitchen  like  a  young 
cyclone.  She  was  so  surprised  that  she 
made  just  one  grab  at  him,  which  made 
the  fur  fly,  then  she  rolled  over  on  her 
back,  ogling  her  eyes  like  a  scared  owl, 
and  panting  with  fright.  Finally  with 
an  involuntary  gasp  she  got  up  and  folded 
her  hands  in  a  gesture  of  silent  despair. 

"Golly!  dat  sholy  was  a  b'ar!  Gawd 
help  me  ef  hit  didn't  jump  clear  over  my 
haid,  and  den  turn  round  and  run  right 
twixt  my  legs.  Ef  I  hadn't  had  my  rab 
bit  foot  in  my  stockin'  I  spose  I'd  a-been 
hoodooed  fo'  life!"  she  mumbled,  in  trem 
bling  tones,  as  she  began  picking  up  the 
potatoes. 

"Hits  jest  a-dispensin'  of  providence 
dat  he  ain't  done  gone  and  et  me  up. 
49 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    *    <*    •*    <*    <*    <* 

Goldern  hit!  Ef  I  hadn't  a-been  skeert 
so  pow'fully  bad,  I'd  abusted  him  open 
wid  a  skillet  and  walloped  him  into  sau 
sage  meat.  De  ole  fool !  He  done  acted 
like  a  ghos'  war  after  him!"  cried  the  old 
negress  in  consternation. 

Master  Bert  was  concealed  in  the  pan 
try,  convulsed  with  laughter  at  the  pro 
ceedings. 

"Did  the  coon  scare  you,  Aunt  Mo- 
riah?"  he  asked,  as  he  poked  his  head  out 
of  the  pantry  door. 

This  was  too  much !  Her  power  of  en 
durance  had  reached  an  end.  She  was 
enraged,  and  resolved  that  then  and  there 
she  would  have  revenge.  Bert  started 
out  of  the  pantry.  She  turned  like  a 
wild-cat,  shoving  him  back,  hastily  locked 
the  door,  and  said  fiercely: 

"You'se  done  gone  yo'  length  now. 
50 


VENGEANCE  AM  SWEET!      *    * 

You'se  gwine  to  stay  in  dar  till  you  learns 
how  to  behave  yo'self,  and  gits  some  wis 
dom;  you  hard  haided,  sassyin'  young 
ster!  Ain't  you  a-shame  to  allus  be  tor- 
mentin'  po'  ole  Aunt  'Riah?  Here  I 
done  spected  you  to  be  a  man  when  you 
come  back  from  school.  But  dat  numb 
skull  filled  full  of  edication  wouldn't  help 
you,  fo'  you'se  gittin'  wusser  and  wusser 
every  day;  book  larnin'  don't  do  you  no 
good.  We  gwine  to  have  a  knock  down 
and  drag  out  soon!  I'll  settle  yo'  hash! 
You'se  a  mouty  small  pertater  heah.  De 
very  idee  of  'lowin'  dat  rapscallion  of  a 
coon  to  jonah  me  and  my  kitchen,  by 
sleepin'  in  my  oven  wif  my  taters !  Ain't 
you  got  gumption  enough  to  know  dat 
means  a  hoodoo  to  de  whole  family? — 
mos'  specially  Miss  Betty's  love  affair! 
Well,  I  spose  Miss  Betty  will  be  gittin' 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS 


married  soon,  and  den  I  gwine  to  leave 
you,  less  I  takes  a  notion  to  git  married 
myself  before  then." 

She  breathed  the  last  very  low,  for  none 
of  the  Morgan  family  realized  her  matri 
monial  inclinations  towards  the  Rev.  Sin- 
killer  Sneezeweed.  She  had  momentarily 
forgotten  Bert,  and  apparently  was  speak 
ing  more  to  herself  than  to  him,  as  she 
stood  gazing  toward  the  pantry.  Bert 
thought  she  was  through  with  her  lecture, 
but  she  began  again. 

"I  spose  you  don't  recollect  who  he'ped 
you  make  dem  ha'r  traps,  and  kotch  dem 
young  flyin'  squirrels!  Dat  twarn't  me, 
was  hit?  And  who  kivered  yo'  walls  wid 
coon  skins?  Yessah,  hit  was  my  friend, 
Doctah  Sneezeweed,  what  brung  dem 
coon  skins  and  deer  horns  clar  from  Pos 
sum  Crick,  jest  cause  I  tole  him  to.  Does 
52 


VENGEANCE  AM  SWEET!      *    * 

you  reckon  de  Lawd's  chillen  ain't  got 
nothin'  to  do  ceptin'  to  wait  on  you? 
You  ongreatf  ul  pusson !  De  Lawd  knows 
dat  twixt  you  and  dat  fool  dorg,  Bulger, 
I  don't  have  much  peace! 

"Miss  Betty  don't  play  no  sich  tricks 
on  me.  Now,  I  wants  to  tell  you  fo'  de 
last  time,  I'se  nevah — nevah — nevah 
gwine  to  give  you  another  thing  to  eat 
'tween  meals.  No  cracklin's,  no  ginger 
bread,  no  nothin'!  You  eats  when  the 
tother  folks  eats,  and  ef  I  had  my  say-so, 
hit  would  be  only  the  leavin's  you'd  git 
then.  Does  you  heah  me?  De  Lawd 
knows  I  didn't  want  to  'gin  no  fight  wid 
you,  but  since  you  has  done  'gin  hit, 
I'se  gwine  to  stay  and  pick  up  de  frag- 
mints.  Now,  dar!  I'se  locked  de  doo' 
on  you ! 

"Mark  my  wo'd,  hit's  gwine  to  be  'Sin- 
53 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    *    *    *    *    *    * 

nah  Mo'n'  fo'  you  ever  gits  outin'  dar.  I 
really  ought  to  give  you  de  worst  whippen 
you  ever  toted.  Bein'  as  you  is  so  manly, 
I'se  gwine  to  show  you  dat  I  kin  bring 
you  to  sack  cloff  and  ashes,  jest  fo'  my 
own  satisfaction.  Hereafter,  I  can't  cook 
lessen  you  calls  me  Mrs.  Simmons !  Dats 
my  name!  Does  you  understand,  Mr. 
Morgan? 

"Hit's  jest  like  Brudder  Sneezeweed 
said  last  Sunday  at  church,  'most  of  dis 
younger  gineration  is  a  lot  of  scripture 
doubtin'  sinnahs,  and  is  bound  fo'  perdi 
tion,  whar  dar  is  perpetual  tormint  and 
nevah  endin'  fiah!  Lawd  he'p  'em  fo' 
'tis  everlastingly  too  late  to  come  into  de 
fole!'" 

It  was  a  red-letter  day  for  Bert;  never 
before  had  Aunt  Moriah  called  him  Mr. 
Morgan.  She  kept  up  her  complaints 

54 


VENGEANCE  AM  SWEET!      *    J 

for  some  time,  the  only  intermission  being 
when  she  went  to  her  cabin  to  get  her 
quilting  scraps.  She  soon  returned,  how 
ever ;  drew  her  shuck  bottomed  chair  near 
the  pantry  door,  sat  down  and  adjusted 


her  quilt  as  she  continued  to  talk.  But 
Bert  was  too  busy  planning  some  scheme 
whereby  he  might  escape,  to  listen  to  her 
remarks.  And  at  last,  becoming  drowsy 
from  inaction,  he  dropped  off  to  sleep. 
Aunt  Moriah's  brain  was  also  busy 

55 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    * 


planning  the  final  attempt  to  intimidate 
Master  Bert.  She  would  not  be  too  hard 
on  him;  but  entirely  too  much  ginger 
bread  had  disappeared  of  late,  to  say  noth 
ing  of  his  other  horrifying  pranks,  espe 
cially  when  his  boy  friends  from  Houston 
were  visiting  him,  to  let  him  go  unpun 
ished.  Ah,  an  idea  struck  her!  —  this 
time  she  would  get  even  with  Master 
Bert,  and  teach  him  a  lesson  to  be  remem 
bered!  But  Betty  must  be  let  into  the 
scheme. 

She  went  to  Betty's  room,  and  entered 
without  knocking.  Betty  knew  at  once 
that  something  was  up  !  There  was  some 
thing  in  Aunt  Moriah's  manner  that  had 
not  been  there  before,  her  step  was  light 
and  quick,  and  she  looked  ten  years 
younger  than  usual.  She  was  out  of 
breath  and  giggling.  It  had  been  years 

56 


VENGEANCE  AM  SWEET!      *    * 

since  her  face  had  given  forth  such  an  ex 
pression  of  mirth.  There  was  a  radiance 
like  the  remote  flash  of  an  irresistible  girl 
ish  mood  shining  through  her  wrinkled 
face.  She  hastened  to  relate  her  plans 
for  scaring  Master  Bert,  thinking  all  the 
time  Betty  would  remain  neutral.  But 
to  her  joy,  Betty  was  right  in  for  the  fun. 
Aunt  Moriah's  broad  grin  plainly  showed 
her  big  white  teeth,  as  her  red  lips  sup 
pressed  the  cachinnation  of  chuckles.  A 
motherly  expression  gleamed  from  her 
eyes,  and  her  voice  was  charged  with 
kindliness,  and  full  of  genuine  fun. 

"I'se  sholy  gwine  to  scare  him  dis 
time,"  she  ejaculated,  still  chuckling  at 
the  prospect. 

"Hurry  up  then!  Get  the  old  ash  can 
to  burn  the  papers  in;  be  careful,  don't 
set  anything  on  fire!  We  don't  want 

57 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    *    *    *    #    #    * 

father  to  catch  us!  But  Bert  must  be 
brought  to  time!"  exclaimed  Betty,  much 
to  the  surprise  and  delight  of  Aunt  Mo- 
riah. 

It  was  a  sad  day  for  Bert;  two  long 
hours  he  had  spent  locked  in  the  pantry. 
Surely  that  seemed  sufficient  punishment 
of  itself  without  the  culmination.  But 
Aunt  Moriah  had  her  own  ideas  about 
teaching  him  wisdom. 

No  time  was  lost  in  making  prepara 
tions;  all  plans  were  laid  for  what  Aunt 
Moriah  called  a  "smoke-out."  She  has 
tily  piled  paper  in  the  ash  can  while 
Betty  went  for  a  match. 

"S-s-s-s-s-s-s-sh !  Don't  wake  him  up !" 
whispered  Aunt  Moriah  as  she  entered 
the  kitchen. 

"That's  enough!"  said  Betty,  as  Aunt 
Moriah  pushed  the  remaining  papers 

58 


VENGEANCE  AM  SWEET!      *    * 

into  the  can.  "Place  it  near  the  door  so 
he'll  get  a  good  whiff  of  it!" 

With  many  a  whispered  word  and 
stifled  laugh  they  lighted  the  papers; 
placed  the  can  near  the  pantry  door,  and 
opened  the  little  side  window,  so  that  the 
smoke  would  blow  directly  into  the  pan 
try.  Aunt  Moriah  got  out  of  the  kitchen 
and  around  to  the  window  as  nimbly  as  a 
child.  Here  she  and  Betty  concealed 
themselves  behind  the  morning-glory 
vines,  still  tittering  with  suppressed 
chuckles.  As  the  smoke  poured  into  the 
pantry,  Aunt  Moriah  whispered: 

"Dat'll  make  him  come  to  time  and 
mo'n!  I  spose  he  won't  pester  me  no 


mo'!" 


"Hush!"   said   Betty,   "I   hear  father 


coming." 


"Well,  I  reckon  if  Marse  Lije's  mem- 
59 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS 


ory  ain't  too  poor,  he  ricollects  playin' 
some  pranks  in  his  early  days  hisself," 
said  Aunt  Moriah,  as  she  peeped  through 
the  vines. 

At  this  moment  Mr.  Morgan  appeared 
on  the  scene,  and  noticed  Betty  and  Aunt 
Moriah  at  the  window.  He  knew  some 
thing  was  up  from  their  unusual  manner. 

"Playing  some  trick  on  Master  Bert, 
eh?  Well,  it's  good  for  him!  Perhaps 
he  will  learn  not  to  disturb  you  and  your 
kitchen  affairs  hereafter,"  he  remarked 
with  a  smile  as  he  entered  the  back  door. 

By  this  time  the  smoke  had  filled  the 
kitchen.  Breathlessly  they  waited.  Sud 
denly  there  was  a  howl  of  terror  from  the 
pantry  and  a  succession  of  wild  thumps 
resounded  from  the  little  room. 

"Fire!  Fire!  Murder!  Help!  Save 
me,  Aunt  Moriah,  save  me!"  Bert  called 
60 


VENGEANCE  AM  SWEET!      ^    # 

imploringly.  "The  kitchen  is  on  fire!" 
His  screams  were  accompanied  by  a  ter 
rible  rapping  and  kicking  on  the  pantry 
walls.  Aunt  Moriah  enjoyed  his  torment 
for  several  minutes,  then  tip-toed  in,  un 
locked  the  pantry  door,  and  ran  out  again. 

Bert  shoved  the  door  open  just  in  time 
to  see  two  faces  distorted  with  laughter, 
watching  him  from  the  kitchen  window. 
The  old  negress  spoke  up:  "Was  yo' 
pow'fully  skeert,  Master  Bert?  I'll 
teach  yo'  dat  I'm  boss  of  dis  roost!  Be 
ware  how  yo'  henceforth  trespasses  on  my 
domains!"  As  Aunt  Moriah  waxed 
great,  Bert  dwindled. 

"That's  all  right;  I'll  get  even  with 
you!  See  if  I  don't!"  he  shouted  in  his 
chagrin,  and  disappeared  around  the  cor 
ner  of  the  house. 

Betty  and  Aunt  Moriah  laughed  until 
61 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    <*    *    *    *    *    * 

they  held  their  sides.  Clinging  to  each 
other  they  enjoyed  paroxysms  of  such  de 
light  as  comes  only  to  happy  children. 
Never  before  had  they  perpetrated  such 
a  successful  trick  on  Bert.  The  tears  of 
joy  ran  over  Aunt  Moriah's  cheeks. 
"Oh  Lawdy!"  she  kept  gasping.  "How 
dat  chile  did  yell!  Lawdy!  Lawdy !" 
At  last  she  and  Betty  returned  to  the 
kitchen. 

"Gawd  knows  vengeance  am  sweet!" 
said  Aunt  Moriah.  "And  I  has  made  dat 
young  sinnah  mo'n!" 


62 


LUCIDATIONS  ON  LOVE  «*    «* 


CHAPTER  V 

LUCIDATIONS  ON  LOVE 

THE  autumn  flowers  were  in  full 
bloom;  tall  purple  asters  and  thin 
leaved  cosmos  shivered  on  their  wind-like 
stalks;  the  goldenrod  formed  a  massive 
sheet  of  yellow  around  the  bed  of  fringed 
gentians ;  while  the  old-fashioned  dahlias, 
bachelor  buttons,  petunias,  and  four- 
o'clocks  of  every  hue,  peeped  from  the 
corners  of  this  wonderful  old  garden. 
Honeysuckles  and  woodbines  climbed 
over  the  aged  wall  to  tempt  the  humming 
birds,  moths,  and  drowsy  bees  that  filled 
the  air.  A  mocking  bird  was  teaching 
her  young  to  fly  in  a  catalpa  tree.  All  of 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    *    *    *    *    *    * 

these  gave  an  air  of  romance  to  the  place 
and  made  it  a  veritable  paradise  for 
lovers. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  Betty 


and  Neill  returned  from  the  station, 
where  Betty  had  gone  to  meet  him,  and 
seated  themselves  on  the  rustic  old  bench 
inside  the  garden.  Aunt  Moriah's  heart 
was  happy  as  she  sat  between  them  cutting 
peaches  to  dry.  According  to  a  plan  al 
ready  agreed  upon,  these  youthful  lovers 
began  questioning  Aunt  Moriah  about 
her  various  love  affairs  and  courtships. 
This  was  the  very  thing  she  liked ;  noth 
ing  could  have  pleased  her  more.  She 


LUCIDATIONS  ON  LOVE  *    *    * 

was  the  original  fountain  of  all  informa 
tion  and  advice  on  matrimonial  questions. 
A  few  leading  interrogations  were  all  that 
was  necessary  to  loosen  a  tongue  skilled 
in  love  lore,  and  one  that  would  speak  as 
an  oracle. 

"Do  tell  us  about  your  first  love  affair, 
Aunt  Moriah,"  said  Neill  entreatingly. 

"Oh,  yes,  do!"  joined  in  Betty. 

"No,  chillen,  I  ain't  got  no  time  to  con 
fabulate  wif  you  youngsters  what  ain't 
had  no  'sperience  in  matrimony.  If  I 
was  to  tell  you  about  dat  powerful  meetin' 
we  had  dat  time  when  I  first  cum  through, 
and  about  how  I  kotched  my  first  hus 
band,  you  wouldn't  believe  me!  So  I 
ain't  gwine  to  waste  my  breff  on  such  ig 
norant  and  foolish  folks!" 

"Please,  Aunt  Moriah,  we'll  believe 
every  word  you  say.  Tell  all  about  when 

65 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    *    *    *    *    *    * 

you  came  through,  and  how  you  caught 
your  first  husband." 

"Well,  beenist  as  you  insist,  and  beenist 
as  I  has  wet-nussed  you  bofT,  I  is  gwine 
to  tell  you  all  about  my  'speriences." 

Aunt  Moriah  gazed  into  the  distance 
with  an  air  of  one  at  peace  with  the  world, 
hardly  stirred  indeed  by  the  enthusiasm 
of  her  audience. 

"Commence  with  the  first  one,"  called 
out  Neill,  anxious  to  get  the  oracle  started. 

"Jest  hold  yo'  hosses  young  man! 
Does  you  think  when  I  tells  the  story 
about  the  father  of  my  first  chile,  dat  I 
aint'  got  to  ricollect  his  full  name,  and  all 
about  him?  Well,  as  I  was  going  to  say, 
my  first  husband  sholy  was  a  grand  man, 
and  I  was  pow'fully  sot  on  him.  His 
name  was  Ebeneezer  Toomer  Zachariah 
Dubstick,  and  my  full  maiden  name  was 
66 


LUCIDATIONS  ON  LOVE  *    *    * 

Miss  Moriah  Georgy  Petunia  Charity 
Buggins,  but  dey  called  me  'Riah,  jest 
plain  'Riah,  for  short.  But  look  heah, 
you  chillen  ain't  gwine  to  tell  nobody 
what  I  tells  you,  is  you?" 

"Sure  not!"  they  answered  in  unison. 
"Tell  us  all  about  it." 

"When  I  was  young  I  lived  in  New 
Orleans;  den  de  folks  done  moved  to 
Houston,  and  fetched  me  along  wif  'em," 
began  the  aged  negress.  "Co'se  dey 
couldn't  git  along  wif  out  Moriah !  Well, 
every  summer  de  niggers  all  conglomer 
ates  here  on  de  coast-kintry  of  Texas. 
We  had  a  terrible  big  movin'  protracted 
meetin'  whar  dar  was  powerful  'zortens, 
prophesyin',  and  all  sich  like.  De  saints 
and  sinnahs  was  all  rounded  up." 

"Did  you  prophesy  then?"  queried 
Neill  as  he  and  Betty  exchanged  smiles. 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS 


"No,  course  I  didn't,  chile!  Is  you 
done  gone  crazy?  I  warn't  nothin'  but  a 
pretty  giggly  gal;  and  I  hadn't  yit  come 
through.  But  hit  warn't  long  befo'  I  was 
under  conviction  at  de  big  meetin'  and 
B  rudder  Dubstick  was  already  co'tin'  me, 
unbeknownst  to  myself! 

"Some  thought  he  liked  me;  others 
thought  he  liked  my  cookin';  but  co'se, 
chillen,  away  down  in  my  wo'ldly  heart 
I  kinder  liked  to  'pear  pow'fully  taken 
wif  'ligion  befo'  dis  deacon,  for  he  was 
de  one  what  always  catamarize  de  young 
jiners.  Yet,  I  didn't  take  no  special  no 
tice  of  de  deacon  kase  I  was  rastlin'  wif 
sin  and  de  Debbil." 

"Then  you  hadn't  got  religion?"  asked 
Betty. 

"No'am,  I  hadn't  zackly  come 
through!"  she  ejaculated  fervently,  "but 
68 


LUCIDATIONS  ON  LOVE  *    <*    * 

praise  de  good  Lawd,  I  was  already 
weepin'  at  de  mo'ner's  bench!  And  de 
saints  was  prayin'  and  moanin'  over  me. 
"Holy  Moses!  dem  sholy  was  some 
doin's!  I  thought  jedgmint  day  was  at 
hand.  Dat  monstrous  crowd  was  singin', 
prayin',  and  shoutin',  and  de  b'leevers  was 
gittin'  mo'  plentiful  every  minute.  All 
dem  Sandhill  niggers  from  Jurdin  Crick 
done  come  over  to  help  us.  De  Metho 
dists  was  pitted  'ginst  de  Baptists  and  de 
Campbellites,  and  every  time  one  of  dem 
sinners  shouted  out,  'I  sees  salvation!'  de 
preachers  would  go  see  whose  side  he  was 
on.  If  he  was  wif  de  Methodists,  den 
dey  would  sot  him  aside  to  be  sprinkled 
wid  branch  water;  but  if  he  was  wid  de 
Baptists  or  Campbellites,  den  him  for  de 
deep  waters  of  J'urdin  Crick  whar  de 
black  turtle's  eye  is  always  shinin'." 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS 


"How  long  did  the  crowds  remain  on 
the  grounds?"  asked  Neill. 

"How  long  does  you  think  we  stayed?" 
she  groaned.  "If  dey  was  seekin'  salva 
tion,  dey  fit  de  Debbil  till  dey  got  hit;  but 
if  dey  was  seekin'  wo'ldly  pleasure  dey 
went  away  when  dey  chose." 

"But  you  haven't  told  us  when  you  got 
religion,"  interrupted  Neill. 

"Jest  gimme  time!"  snapped  the  old 
negress.  "I'se  gwine  to  tell  hit  all  —  but 
whar  was  I?  Oh,  yes,  I  knows;  I  was 
speakin'  'bout  dem  doin's  at  de  big 
meetin'.  Well,  I  was  weepin'  at  de 
mo'ner's  bench  wif  piles  of  other  sinners 
what  was  under  conviction.  Some  was 
cryin'  out  loud  fo'  marcy,  tothers  had 
done  gone  into  transes.  De  wo'kers  was 
totin'  'em  out  and  layin'  'em  on  de  grass 
till  de  good  Lawd  spoke  to  'em.  Here 
70 


LUCIDATIONS  ON  LOVE  *    *    * 


dey  was  jest  watchin'  and  prayin'  for  mo' 
to  git  rigid  wif  repentance,  so  dat  de 
Lawd  could  strack  'em  down.  All  de 
time  de  saints  was  a-singin'  dat  good  ole 


hymn,  'Po1 
Sinnah's  Foun' 
A  Home  At 

-T~T—  '  Las'.' 
"After  Brudder  Dubstick  done 
preached  three  hours  he  takes  a  new  text 
and  starts  all  over  again.  De  text  was 
somethin'  about  brimstone,  hell-fiah,  and 
damnation!  Hit  war  somewhere  in  de 
Bible  twixt  Generations  and  Revolutions. 
And  he  ended  by  savin',  'dar'll  be 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    «*    *    *    *    *    * 

moanin',  weepin',  and  gnashin'  of  teeth!' 
'Some  of  you,'  he  sez,  'is  asleep  jest  like  a 
sullen  possum,  but  de  dorgs  is  gwine  to 
snitch  on  you  sho',  aha!  De  debbil  is 
gwine  to  goof  at  you,  aha !  You'se  zackly 
like  de  carcass  of  a  daid  cow,  but  de  buz 
zards  of  sin  is  gwine  to  gozzle  you  down, 
for  dar'll  be  moanin'  and  moanin' F 

"Brudder  Dubstick  kep'  on:  'De 
waves  of  Jurdin  is  gittin'  blacker  and 
blacker;  jedgmint  day  is  comin'  for  us  all! 
Jest  a  few  mo'  days  of  grace,  and  den 
hit'll  be  too  late.  At  our  last  meetin'  was 
po'  ole  Sistah  Faithy  Solomon  what  had 
prayed,  sung,  prophesied  and  'zorted! 
But  whar  am  she  now?  Bless  Gawd,  she's 
totin'  mo'ners  on  dat  far  and  distant  shore, 
wavin'  de  pa'ms  of  glory  wif  dem  tother 
angels.  No  mo'  trials  and  tribulations 
for  her!  No  suh,  for  she's  jest  sottin'  by 
72 


"FM   READY  FOR  DAT   CHARIOT  TO  COME!" 


LUCIDATIONS  ON  LOVE  ^    *    * 

de  tother  side  of  Jurdin  floppin'  dem  new 
wings  wif  de  seraphims  and  cherabims! 
Is  you  ready  to  jine  her,  Sistah  Liza?' 

"  'Dat  I  is!  Bless  de  LawdP  screamed 
Liza,  'I  sees  Sistah  Faithy  wif  de  angels 
stretchin'  out  her  hands  to  me  and  sayin', 
"Come  up  higher,  Sistah  Liza."  Glory, 
I'm  ready  for  dat  chariot  to  come  arter 
me!'" 

"'Amen!  Amen!'"  called  out  a  host 
of  voices.  Then  Brother  Dubstick  re 
sumed  his  talk. 

"Last  week  po'  Sistah  Jezebel  de 
parted  in  de  arms  of  de  Lawd,  shoutin' 
glory  wid  her  last  bref.  We  done 
planted  her  bones  in  dat  lonesome  grave 
yard  up  yonder.  On  her  tombstone  is  a 
dove  of  peace;  Gawd  knows  she  didn't 
have  much  peace  in  dis  heah  wold!  Po' 
ole  critter  she  was  so  deaf  dat  she  couldn't 

73 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    #    *    *    *    *    rf 

heah  hit  thunder,  but  she  was  allus  to 
chuch  wid  her  ear  trumpet  pintin'  right 
towards  de  preacher.  Yessir,  she  was  lis- 
tenin'  for  a  wod  of  comfot,  and  she  was 
settin'  dem  young  sinnahs  a  good  example 
of  faithfulness,  even  though  sometimes 
she  was  sleepin'  and  snorin' — dat  trumpet 
was  allus  pintin'  at  de  gorspel !  On  jedg- 
ment  day  Marse  Gabriel  may  have  to  give 
his  horn  an  extra  toot  to  wake  her  up,  but 
she'll  be  dar!  Po'  old  critter,  dem 
heathen  will  shorely  miss  her.  De  last 
year  of  her  life  she  done  knitted  ninety- 
four  pairs  of  socks,  and  was  hopin'  to  knit 
one  hundred  befo'  she  obsquatulated. 

"Two  little  boys  of  Brudder  Mose 
Johnsins  was  laid  to  sleep  in  dat  lonesome 
graveyard  since  our  last  meetin'.  Gawd 
knows  de  grave  diggers'  spades  seems  like 
dey  won't  never  git  rusty  no  mo'.  Jedg- 
74 


LUCIDATIONS  ON  LOVE  *    *    J 

mint  day  sholy  is  nigh  at  hand.  Sistah 
Prunella's  little  girl,  Creecy,  is  at  de  pint 
of  sickness  and  I  specks  she's  gwine  to 
jine  dat  heavenly  band  fo'  long.  (Have 
Marcy  on  us  Lawd!  cried  her  weepin' 
maw.) 

"Den  Brudder  Gilberry  riz  up  and 
commenced  a-singin'  'In  Some  Lonesome 
Graveyard,  Oh  Lawd  How  Long?' 

"  'Hush  up  dat  singin'  Brudder  Gil- 
berry,'  said  Brudder  Dubstick,  'and  let 
us  go  on  wid  dese  heah  promulgations. 
Ain't  you  all  tired  of  yo'  sins?  Ain't  you 
tired  of  sarvin'  de  debil?  De  scripture 
says,  "Hits  better  to  be  de  gate  keeper  in 
de  house  of  de  Lawd  than  to  dwell  in  the 
tents  of  wickedness !" 

"  'Some  of  you  is  like  aged  trees  in  de 
forest  of  de  Lawd,  withered  in  branches, 
and  yo'  haids  is  kivered  in  snow,  settled 

75 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS 


on  you  from  de  waves  of  sorrow.  De 
winds  of  time  have  blown  de  hairs  from 
yo'  haids;  hit  has  torn  yo'  teef  out,  and 
made  furrows  in  yo'  aged  brows.  De  vail 
of  sorrow  has  kivered  yo'  eyes  so  dey  sees 
no  mo'  ;  hit  has  bent  yo'  weary  backs  wid 
burdens  heaby  to  tote;  and  no  mo'  you 
walks  wid  haids  hilt  high.  Dis  yearthly 
body  trembles  and  shakes  and  de  time  is 
nigh  at  hand  when  de  cock  will  crow  fo' 
yo'  last  day  on  dis  old  yearth!' 

"'Amen!'  groaned  a  hos'  of  voices  as 
Brother  Dubstick  tuck  a  glass  of  water, 
and  kep'  on. 

"  'I  wants  some  of  you  wo'kers  and 
'zorters  to  come  up  heah  and  pray  wid 
dese  heah  po'  moaners,  while  some  of  de 
saints  gives  their  'speriences.  Sistah 
Sally  Skinflunt,  bein'  as  you  has  kinder 
nussed  dis  church  from  hits  infamy  up, 


LUCIDATIONS  ON  LOVE  *    *    * 

and  has  been  de  life  of  mo'  funerals  den 
anyone  of  dese  saints,  s'pose  you  tell  us 
what  de  speerit  have  sed  to  you.' 

"Den  Sistah  Skinflunt  riz  up  and  com 
menced  a-wavin'  her  hands  and  shoutin', 
'O  my  breddern,  O  my  sistern! — I  is  toted 
you  in  my  arms  when  you  was  little  ones, 
I  has  toted  you  from  de  moaners  bench, 
and  Gawd  knows  I  is  liable  to  tote  you  to 
some  coffin'  and  place  a  bunch  of  forgit- 
me-nots  in  yo'  hands,  so  dat  you  can  greet 
dem  angels  wif  'em  when  you  lands  on 
dat  distant  shoo.  Jest  tell  'em  dey 
growed  in  Sis  Skinflunt's  garden,  whar  de 
weeds  and  sparrow  grass  tried  to  crowd 
'em  out;  tell  'em  Sis  Skinflunt  am  still  fit- 
tin'  sin  like  a  boa'din'  housekeeper  fits 
cock  roaches.  Tell  'em  dat  I'm  cominM 
Dat  my  feet  ain't  never  growed  tired,  but 
dat  de  day  do  seem  long,  and  in  de  evenin' 

77 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    *    *    *    *    *    * 

of  life  de  sun  don't  shine  so  bright.' 
'Amen!'  shouted  de  aged  saints,  as  Sister 
Skinflunt  spoke  de  gorspel. 

"Tell  'em  dat  I  can  already  see  de 
stars  shinin'  down  de  Ribber  Jurdin,  and 
my  eyes  is  done  sot  on  dat  New  Jerusalem 
whar  hit  never  gits  dark!  Already  does 
I  hear  de  angels  sayin',  'Come  up  higher, 
Sister  Skinflunt,  and  play  on  dat  harp  of 
a  thousand  strings  wif  David.'  Yas  suh, 
de  arch  angel  done  tuned  dat  harp  and 
prepared  for  a  grand  jubilee  when  I  gits 
dar! 

"  'De  pleasures  of  dis  heah  world  don't 
trouble  me  no  mo';  de  few  things  dat  I 
used  to  love  am  gone  beyond.  One  by 
one  my  treasures  have  departed,  and  now 
I  has  a  treasure  in  heaben,  bless  Gawd!' 
'Amen !  Amen !  Amen !'  cum  from  ev'y 
direction. 

78 


LUCIDATIONS  ON  LOVE  *    *    * 

"  'Go  right  on  wid  yo'  'speriences,  Sis 
ter  Skinflunt,'  sed  Brother  Dubstick,  as 
de  aged  sister  climbed  onto  one  of  dem 
benches  and  waving  her  hands,  kep'  on. 

"  Traise  Gawd  as  I  looks  over  de  ocean 
of  life,  I  sees  my  ship  a-comin'! 
A-comin'  arter  me!  I  sees  dem  angel 
sailors  wid  deir  opra  glasses  lookin'  for 
Sister  Skinflunt.  Bless  de  Lawd,  I'se 
been  baptised  in  de  Baptist  Crick  and  I 
lives  on  de  Baptist  side!  Oh,  Lawd!  let 
me  .  .  .!' 

"  'Git  some  water  quick  Sis  Viney,  fo' 
Sister  Skinflunt  is  havin'  a  faintin'  spell. 
Jest  be  quiet  brudders  and  sisters,  I  think 
she's  all  right.  Jest  gone  into  a  transe. 
Lay  her  out  dar  whar  hit  am  cool  and 
we'll  go  on  wid  our  'ligion  service,'  sed 
Brother  Dubstick,  as  Brother  Mose  John- 
sin  riz  up  to  'spress  hisself. 
79 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    *    *    *    *    *    * 

"  Well,  my  f rens,  I  is  pow'fully  in  de 
clutches  of  sin.  Howbesomever,  we  must 
keep  on  fittin'  sin  till  the  sun  sets,  jest  like 
we  fits  de  weeds  and  grass.  We  must 
chop  hit  down,  rake  hit  up,  and  burn  hit 
wid  de  hoes  and  spades  of  righteousness! 
We  must  never  sleep 
on  de  stump  while 
de  weeds  is  growin', 
fo'  den  de  devil  will 
git  us  sholy.' i Amen  P 
came  from  de  crowd, 
while  Uncle  Isaac, 
near  the  pulpit  uttered  a  weird  groan. 
'A-m-m-m-m-m-m,'  he  moaned  like  a 
wounded  b'ar  in  the  woods." 

"When  did  that  meeting  come  to  an 
end,  Aunt  Moriah?"  interrupted  Neill. 

"Law,  chile,  dat  meetin'  lasted  most  all 
night!     I  was  jest  goin'  to  tell  you  how  it 
80 


LUCIDATIONS  ON  LOVE  *    *    J 

ended.  Brudder  Gooberpea  was  de  next 
one  what  was  called  on.  But  his  'speri- 
ence  didn't  amount  to  much;  didn't  even 
fotch  fo'th  a  hymn.  Den,  wifout  waitin' 
to  be  axed,  Brudder  Isrul,  from  Jurdin 
Crick,  riz  up  and  sez,  sez  he: 

"  'De  Debil  done  come  to  see  me  de 
tother  night  and  sez,  "Brudder  Isrul,  you 
sholy  is  lookin'  monstrous  bad;  actually 
you  looks  like  you  hadn't  et  no  chicken 
vittles  in  four  moons!" 

"'Den  I  jest  kep'  on  thinkin'.  I 
knowed  I  had  already  been  'flicted  wid 
locomotia  ataxia,  and  I  didn't  want  to  git 
hit  er-gin'.  On  dat  very  night  my  old 
lady  had  driv  me  outin'  de  kitchen  wifout 
givin'  me  one  bite  of  supper,  all  kase  I 
warn't  in  the  woman  siffrage  parade.  I 
told  her  dat  I  fully  intended  paradin'  my- 
se'f,  but  dat  I  went  to  sleep  in  de  cotton 
81 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS 


shed  and  didn't  wake  up  in  time.  But, 
woman-like,  she  felt  hit  her  duty  to  pun 
ish  me. 

"  Well,  I  was  gittin'  pow'fully  hon- 
gry,  and  was  jest  hankerin'  fo'  some 
chicken  vittles  wid  onion  gravy.  So,  I 
decided  dat  I  better  take  a  little  constitu 
tional  walk.  But  luck  was  agin'  me!  I 
felt  f  o'  my  'backer,  and  hit  was  all  gone  ; 
my  po'  throat  was  jest  natchelly  parchin' 
fo'  a  little  simmon  beer,  and  I  heerd  de 
Debil  say  to  me  kinder  gentle  like,  "Brud- 
der  Isrul,  yo'  back  is  pow'fully  lame  from 
dat  last  whippin  'dat  yo'  old  'oman  had 
to  give  you  ;  I  specks  you  had  better  not 
try  to  climb  dat  hill  over  by  de  new  pas 
ture,  but  jest  cut  through  de  woods  by 
Sister  Sims'  chicken  yard.  You  know 
dat  am  de  quickest  way." 

"  'Hones'  truff,  I  done  been  beat  up  so 
82 


LUCIDATIONS  ON  LOVE  *    *    * 

badly  dat  my  mind  was  in  a  state  of  addle 
ment,  and  I  thinks  to  myse'f,  "Isrul  bet 
ter  not  trust  to  his  jedgment;  he  better  go 
through  de  woods  by  Sister  Sims'."  So, 
I  took  along  a  cotton  basket  to  fetch  de 
old  'oman  a  basket  of  pine  knots — dis 
would  save  me  anudder  pow'ful  beaten. 
Well,  I  was  snatchin'  up  pine  knots  right 
and  left,  and  de  fust  thing  I  knowed  I  run 
right  agin'  a  chicken  house!  Dat's 
zackly  what  I  done. 

"  'Den  I  sez  to  myse'f,  "Isrul  don't  let 
dese  heah  big  yaller  and  dominecker 
roosters  and  pullets  disturb  you  while  you 
sits  down  and  has  a  good  peaceful  sleep, 
kase  de  old  'oman  mout  take  a  notion  to 
make  you  sit  up  all  night  and  fit  dem 
skeeters  and  bugs  while  she  rests  fo'  de 
missionary  meetin'!"  By  dis  time,  po' 
tired  Isrul  was  done  clar  inside  de  chicken 

83 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS 


house  so  if  hit  rained  he  wouldn't  git  wet. 

"  Well,  de  quaarest  thing  happened. 
De  devil  put  Isrul  to  sleep,  and  den  Isrul 
dreamed  he  was  ketchin'  wild  birds  in  de 
bushes.  So,  Isrul  got  one  of  dem  walkin' 
night-mares,  and  piled  all  de  pine  knots 
outin'  de  basket,  and  kotched  twelve  of 
de  biggest  fattest  roosters,  and  six  pul 
lets,  and  tied  their  legs,  put  'em  in  de  bas 
ket,  and  perculated  for  home! 

"  'Lawd  have  marcy!  Po'  Isrul  hadn't 
mo'  den  started  when  Sister  Sims  heerd 
dem  chickens  squallin',  and  run  into  de 
yard.  Bless  my  soul  if  she  didn't  almost 
run  agin'  po'  sleepin'  Isrul!  Well,  I  was 
so  skeert  when  I  woke  up  dat  I  talked 
kinder  crazy  like.  "Dese  chickens  is  jest 
takin'  a  ride  in  my  basket,"  sez  I.  But 
Sister  Sims  was  rarin'  and  swarin'  'bout 
havin'  me  chu'ched  till  I  done  'splained 


LUCIDATIONS  ON  LOVE  *    *    * 

dat  I  was  havin'  a  night-mare.  Den,  she 
done  forgive  me,  so  I  turn't  de  chickens 
loose,  and  meandered  home  to  tell  de  old 
lady  'bout  hit.7 

"  'Set  down,  Brudder  Isrul,  fo7  you  gits 
started  agin7!'  called  out  Brudder  Haw- 
bush.  Dat  was  de  crownin7  insult,  chil- 
len!  Hit  come  from  one  of  dem  Sand 
Hill  niggers  of  de  Methodist  faith.  I 
knowed  trouble  was  comin7 ;  I  felt  hit  in 
my  bones.  I  was  still  at  de  moaners 
bench,  but  I  commenced  to  git  ready  to 
'fend  my  faith  if  dem  Methodists  insulted 
we  as  a  church!  I  was  so  flustrated  and 
compoginant  as  I  had  never  been  since  I 
was  borned.  Dar  was  a  big  plank  sottin7 
in  de  corner.  I  seed  dis  weapon,  kase  de 
Lawd  had  sont  hit  to  me  to  fit  wid  in  case 
of  trouble.  And  trouble  was  comin7! 
Dem  Sand  Hill  niggers  had  been  takin' 

85 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    *    *    *    *    *    * 

all  kinds  of  sinnahs  into  their  church  jest 
to  try  and  out  do  de  Baptist." 

Aunt  Moriah  paused,  and  after  closely 
scanning  the  faces  of  her  youthful  audi 
ence,  to  make  sure  that  they  were  listen 
ing,  resumed  her  story. 

"Yes,  chillen,  I  was  gittin'  furagious. 
Dem  shoutin'  Methodists  from  Jurdin 
Crick  were  all  confabulatin'  wid  one 
'nother.  De  Campbellites  'peared  mo' 
kintinted  in  min',  knowin'  dat  we  warn't 
gwine  to  let  'em  git  licked.  But  we  Bap 
tists — lawsy,  chillen,  we  was  foamin'  wif 
wrath!  De  Methodists  had  been  kinder 
insultin'  like  durin'  de  whole  camp- 
meetin'  and  dis  was  de  last  night,  so  hit 
was  up  to  us  to  git  venjeance  on  'em. 
Zackly  at  dis  minute  one  of  dem  Metho 
dist  niggers  said  in  a  loud  'sinuatin' 
voice : 

86 


LUCIDATIONS  ON  LOVE  *    *    * 

"  'Miss  Moriah  Buggins  mus'  sholy  be 
a  pow'ful  sinnah,  fo'  she  don't  seem  to 
be  able  to  git  salvation!' 

"Dat  was  de  wossest  thing  she  could 
a-sed ;  de  fracas  was  started !  I  sprung  at 
her  like  a  panther  cat,  and  de  Lawd  knows 
I  jest  left  enough  shreds  of  clothes  on  her 
to  kiver  her  nakedness.  We  bit,  tore,  and 
scuffled,  but  she  was  laced  up  so  tight  dat 
her  breff  warn't  no  good.  I  jest  squoze 
her  up  like  a  ball,  and  drawed  dem  strings 
so  close  dat  her  wind  pipes  was  mos' 
busted.  Den  I  fo'ced  her  to  de  floo'  and 
hilt  her  down  wid  my  feet  till  she  growed 
limp  as  a  dish-rag!" 

Aunt  Moriah  roared  with  laughter  at 
the  thought  of  her  youthful  combats. 
She  had  been  a  fighter! 

"Dem  niggers  was  fittinM"  she  con 
tinued.  "Dey  was  climbin'  over  benches, 

87 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    ****** 

some  cussin',  some  prayin'  for  marcy, — 
and  all  scramblin'  for  de  doo'.  I  made 
for  dat  doo'  myse'f,  carryin'  de  big  board 
what  stood  in  de  corner.  I  climbed  right 
over  de  doo'  and  sot  on  de  end  of  a  pine 
log.  Jist  as  dem  Methodists  scurried  out 
I  lambasted  'em  de  pow'fullest  blow  what 
I  could,  from  old  Sis  Faithy  to  little  Pe 
tunia  Teempy.  Dat  I  did !  Hit  was  my 
Christian  duty  to  spank  dat  whole  bunch 
of  Sand-Hill  Methodists!  Dey  done  hilt 
dey  haids  too  high,  so  I  had  to  lay  'em 
low! 

"But  hit  sholy  was  a  dispensin'  of  prov 
idence  dat  I  hadn't  already  jined  de 
church,  kase  I  mout  a-shirked  my  duty, 
and  hit  was  de  spankin'  of  de  Methodists 
what  won  for  me  Brudder  Dubstick's 
heart.  In  less  den  two  weeks  I  was  led 
into  de  crick  and  baptized.  Yes,  chillen, 
88 


LUCIDATIONS  ON  LOVE  *    *    * 

dat  am  how  it  all  happened!  'Scuse  me, 
I  must  go  and  put  some  seasonin'  in  my 
turnip  greens  fo'  dey  biles  too  much,"  she 
ended,  and  hastened  into  the  kitchen. 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    *    *    *    * 


CHAPTER  VI 

JEST  MIDDLIN'  PEART 

AUNT  MORIAH  SIMMONS,  re 
ligious  celebrity,  prophet,  saint  of 
sixty-five  years,  head  of  the  Pruneville 
Zion    Evangelical    Mite    Society,     and 
leader    in    church    affairs,    enjoyed    the 
unique  distinction  of 
being  the  most  reli 
gious       person       in 
Pruneville  as  well  as 
being     the     greatest 
believer  in  marriage. 
If    she    set    out    to 
catch   a   new  husband,   she   deliberately 
selected    the    one    of    her    choice,    and 
90 


JEST  MIDDLIN?  PEART     *    *    * 

he  was  soon  won,  even  though  she  had 
to  resort  to  manifold  tricks.  She  was 
the  best  cook  in  the  county;  the  wonder  of 
her  chicken  pie,  potato-pone,  cakes  and 
custards,  was  known  everywhere.  But 
most  of  all  she  was  known  for  her  matri 
monial  experience ;  and  toward  the  main 
tenance  of  this  reputation  it  was  Aunt 
Moriah's  pride  and  joy  to  be  continually 
evolving  new  methods  of  courtship. 
Never  once  had  a  rival  in  love-lore  dark 
ened  her  horizon.  Since  she  had  been 
old  enough  to  wear  long  dresses  she  had 
been  considered  the  supreme  authority 
upon  all  matrimonial  affairs  of  the  com 
munity.  But  at  this  ripe  age  she  found 
herself  confronting  a  most  serious  prob 
lem. 

Several  times  she  had  been  left  a  widow 
and  each  time  had  immediately  caught  a 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS 


new  husband.  The  saying  that,  "Aunt 
Moriah  is  the  marrinest  person  in  Prune- 
ville,"  was  one  in  which  she  took  especial 
pride,  and  she  was  determined  to  make 
every  effort  to  sustain  her  reputation. 
No  one  but  a  genuine  preacher  of  the 
hard-shell  Baptist  faith  would  satisfy  her 
—  he  must  be  a  religious  celebrity,  as  were 
her  former  husbands. 

The  saints  were  duly  interested,  and 
also  the  sinners,  for  this  was  Aunt  Mo- 
riah's  fifth  widowhood  and  each  time  in 
the  past  she  had  deliberately  picked  out 
the  preacher  of  her  choice  and,  without 
playing  havoc  with  other  sisters'  hus 
bands,  as  Viney  Green  had  done,  married 
before  the  grass  had  grown  over  her  last 
husband's  grave.  Nothing  had  ever 
come  in  her  way;  no  one  had  ever  dared 
attempt  to  shine  beside  this  noted  reli- 
92 


JEST  MIDDLIN?  PEART     <*    <*    * 

gious    and   matrimonial    light,    nor   had 
they  questioned  its  brilliance! 

It  had  gradually  leaked  out  in  the 
community  that  Aunt  Moriah  was  en 
deavoring  to  catch  the  Rev.  Sinkiller 
Sneezeweed.  This  she  was  attaining  by 


the  process  of  feeding  him — a  wise 
woman's  first  bait.  Things  went  on 
swimmingly  for  a  while,  but  just  as  all 
looked  serene  for  success,  Brother  Sneeze- 
weed  stopped  calling  upon  her.  No  ex 
cuse  did  he  offer;  nor  could  she  think  of 
any,  unless  it  was  that  other  Christian 

93 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS 


widows  had  learned  of  her  methods  and 
had  alienated  his  affections  by  tempting 
him  with  extra  good  food.  If  such  was 
the  case  something  had  to  be  done,  and 
done  at  once;  otherwise  her  reputation 
would  fall  to  zero. 

Meanwhile  the  fickle  Brother  Sneeze- 
weed  had  a  covetous  eye  turned  toward 
Sister  Viney,  and  had  resolved  either  to 
wait  until  Viney  became  a  widow  or 
marry  one  of  the  younger  saints  of  the 
church.  Everything  seemed  to  have  sud 
denly  turned  against  Aunt  Moriah;  there 
were  troubles  galore. 

It  was  not  uncommon  for  the  sisters  to 
say,  as  they  gossiped  together  after  church 
was  over,  "Po'  Sistah  Moriah,  de  Lawd 
is  pow'fully  'flictin'  her!  Hit  do  seem 
she  ain't  gwine  to  kotch  B  rudder  Sin- 
killer  Sneezeweed  so  easy  as  she  thought 

94 


JEST  MIDDLIN?  PEART     *    *    * 

she  was!  Well,  she's  gittin'  too  old  to 
cope  wid  dese  younger  saints,  she's  done 
had  her  day;  her  laurels  is  lost!" 

This  was  enough  to  revive  the  spirits 
of  the  most  superannuated  fossil,  to  say 
nothing  of  a  woman  hitherto  celebrated 
for  her  unrivalled  social  and  matrimonial 
proclivities.  Aunt  Moriah  spent  many 
wakeful  nights  planning  some  scheme 
whereby  she  might  induce  the  Rev.  Sin- 
killer  to  call  on  her  again.  Several 
weeks  passed  and  still  no  definite  plan  of 
action  was  formed.  But  on  the  fourth 
week  of  prayer  and  meditation  a  light  be 
gan  to  dawn;  at  last,  an  inspiration  came. 
So  excited  was  she  that  she  talked  aloud 
to  herself: 

"I'll  show  dem  females  whether  I'm 
able  to  kotch  B  rudder  Sneezeweed  or 
not!  Dey  needn't  be  wastin'  deir  sympa- 
95 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    *    *    *    J»    *    * 

thy  on  me;  Lawdy,  if  I  wanted  to  I  could 
make  any  one  of  dem  a  widow  in  three 
days'  time  by  jest  walkin'  off  wid  dey  no- 
count  husbands.  Huh!  I  ain't  sufferin' 
wid  aige!  I  reckon  dey  don't  know  Mrs. 
Simmons  so  well  as  dey  think  dey  do.  I 
ain't  old  as  Mathuselah,  but  I've  lived 
long  enough  to  show  dem  a  few  new 
tricks.  Jest  keep  yo'  eyes  on  me,  gals!" 
she  shrieked  with  laughter,  as  she  planned 
her  matrimonial  campaign,  which  we 
cannot  say  was  planned  unwisely,  or  with 
out  much  thought. 

"I  knows  what  I'se  gwine  to  do;  I'se 
gwine  to  try  one  of  Master  Bert's  tricks 
on  Brudder  Sinkiller.  Dat'll  bring  him 
to  time!  I'll  make  him  come  over  to  see 
me  dis  very  night.  Lawsy,  why  ain't  I 
done  thought  of  hit  before?  All  I'se  got 
to  do  is  to  tie  a  piece  of  strong  twine  to 


JEST  MIDDLIN?  PEART     *    *    # 

de  outside  of  his  stove  pipe,  and  tie  de 
tother  end  here  in  my  kitchen.  Den 
I  draws  a  piece  of  pine-rosin  on  dat 
string,  he'll  think  hit's  a  hant  shoo! — and 
over  to  see  me  he'll  come!  Well,  I  do 
declar!  I  mout  a-been  married  by  dis 
time  if  I'd  used  my  haid  befo'.  Mrs. 
Simmons  will  have  a  beau  dis  very  night; 
look  out,  gals,  I'll  git  him  shoo!  He's 
jest  de  same  as  kotched.  My  hand 
and  haid  ain't  lost  dey  cunnin'  yit.  Hit's 
as  easy  as  throwin'  salt  on  a  bird's  tail!" 
Aunt  Moriah  was  happier  than  she  had 
been  for  many  moons.  She  hummed  to 
herself  as  she  hustled  among  the  pots  and 
pans.  A  ball  of  strong  twine  was  soon 
found,  and  shortly  after  Brother  Sinkiller 
had  passed  down  the  road,  with  a  fishing 
rod  and  grubbing  hoe  on  his  shoulder,  she 
emerged  from  the  kitchen,  with  a  grin  on 

97 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    *    * 


«*    * 


her  face,  and  made  straight  for  Brother 
Sinkiller's  cabin.  The  telephone  connec 
tion  was  soon  made,  and  when  it  was 
finished,  she  gave  it  a  thorough  test 
ing.  Aunt  Moriah  was 
as  happy  over  it,  as  a 
boy  is  over  seeing  his 
first  circus. 

"Hit's  time 
to  come 
home  from 
yo'  fishin', 
Dr.  Sneeze- 
weed.  Jest 
have  a  seat  in  yo'  lonesome  cabin,  and  let 
de  rats  play  on  yo'  floor,  while  yo'  listens 
to  de  hants  sawin'  on  yo'  stove-pipe.  Bet 
ter  take  warnin'  against  remainin'  single 
too  long  in  widderhood,"  she  remarked 
to  herself  as  she  bent  over  the  washtub. 


JEST  MIDDLIN?  PEART     *    *    * 

"I  reckon  yo'  better  decide  to  marry  po' 
Sistah  Simmons  what  can  give  yo'  real 
comfot,  as  she's  knowed  sorrer  herself. 
She's  a  good  cook;  and  a  saint  like  yo' 
needs  good  eatins,"  thus  she  mused,  little 
aware  of  the  real  cause  of  Brother  Sin- 
killer's  seeming  indifference. 

Night  was  coming  on  as  Brother  Sin- 
killer,  wearied  from  his  long  fishing 
trip,  ploddingly  returned  empty-handed 
to  his  little  tin-roofed,  log  cabin  hut, 
which  had  been  only  a  place  to  sleep  in 
at  nights.  The  loneliness  was  killing;  he 
must  get  married,  but  to  whom  should  it 
be?  Viney  Green  was  still  married,  but 
no  one  could  tell  when  she  might  decide 
to  become  a  widow.  Aunt  Moriah  was 
all  right,  but  she  had  already  been  wife 
to  both  the  former  pastors  of  the  Possum 
Trot  Zion  Evangelical  Church,  as  well 
99 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    *    *    *    *    *    rf 

as  the  bearer  of  the  reputation  of  being 
the  "marrinest  woman  in  Pruneville." 
This  he  did  not  like,  for  the  brothers  and 
sisters  teased  him  about  her.  His  deci 
sion  must  be  reached  by  prayer.  There 
was  no  time  to  lose,  so  kneeling  by  his 
bedside  he  began: 

"Hep  me  Lawd  to  decide  tonight  on  de 
right  'oman  fo'  my  hepmeet.  Lead  her 
to  me,  Lawd,  or  if  yo'  won't  do  dat,  lead 
me  to  her!  Foce  us  together,  foce  me  to 
axe  her,  foce  her  to  have  me!  Rose  yo' 
know,  Lawd,  dat  I'm  gittin'  as  stubborn 
as  dat  old  gray  mare  mule  of  mine." 

Little  did  Aunt  Moriah,  in  her  kitchen 
on  the  hillside,  know  that  the  fates  had 
come  to  her  aid,  and  were  directing  her 
to  draw  the  rosin  on  the  string,  just  when 
she  did.  Her  plan  was  blossoming  forth 
suddenly  in  all  its  diabolical  wickedness. 
100 


JEST  MIDDLIN^  PEART     *    *    * 

The  gnawing,  sawing  sound  on  Brother 
Sinkiller's  stove  pipe  made  it  seem  as  if 
the  entire  "hant"  world  were  determined 
to  drive  him  to  distraction.  Hastily 
arising  from  his  knees,  he  declared  aloud: 
"What  am  dat  quaar  noise?  Hep  me 
Lawd,  hit  sounds  jest  like  a  speerit 
scratchin'  'ginst  my  stove  pipe!  Dis 
heah  cabin  ain't  big  enough  to  hold  me 
and  dat  hant!"  He  walked  to  the  win 
dow,  and  peered  through  the  darkness  to 
ward  Aunt  Moriah's  kitchen.  It  looked 
very  light  and  inviting  over  there.  "I 
spose  I  better  go  to  see  Sister  Simmons," 
he  mumbled  to  himself,  excusingly.  "I 
ain't  seed  her  in  sich  a  pow'ful  long  time." 
He  grunted  as  he  reached  for  his  hat  and 
old  walking  stick,  made  from  a  crooked 
hickory  sprout.  The  hant  continued  to 
scratch  on  his  stove  pipe,  as  he  closed  the 
101 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    *    *    *    *    *    * 

door  with  a  bang,  and  trembling  as  with 
ague,  wended  his  way  toward  Sister  Sim 
mons'  matrimonial  spider-web. 

Aunt  Moriah  saw  him  coming  up  the 
hill,  and  chuckled  to  herself,  "I  is  cer 
tainly  one  awful  sinner;  but  dat  nigger  is 
too  slow  fo'  a  lady  of  my  caliber!" 

Brother  Sneezeweed's  gentle  rap  was 
answered  by  a  welcome  "come  in."  He 
was  soon  comfortably  seated  in  the 
widow's  luxurious  kitchen.  The  supper 
dishes  had  been  washed  and  cleared  away, 
and  Aunt  Moriah  was  working  on  her 
favorite  piece  of  knitting,  a  pair  of  white 
stockings  with  a  fancy  red  border  around 
the  top.  Although  Brother  Sinkiller 
knew  that  it  was  not  just  the  proper  thing 
for  a  preacher  to  meditate  on,  yet  he 
could  not  help  thinking  how  attractive 
her  ankles  would  look  in  those  wonderful 
102 


JEST  MIDDLIN?  PEART     *    jt    * 

stockings,  and  how  he  should  like  to  own 
a  pair  of  socks  made  as  they  were! 
Brother  Sinkiller  was  little  aware  that 
she  had  so  carefully  planned  the  evening. 
The  first  thing  Aunt  Moriah  did  was  to 
set  the  table,  and  feed  him  on  every 
thing  good  from  "left  over  chicken  pie, 
to  tater  pone."  His  generous  hostess 
kept  on  bringing  out  food,  and  before  he 
could  remonstrate,  she 
had  actually  made  fresh 
coffee! 

"Hit  sholy  do  he'p 
my  lone  speerits,  Brud- 
der  Sneezeweed,  to  have  a  gawdly,  young, 
handsome  preacher,  like  yo'  is,  to  come 
in  'casionally  and  share  a  humble  snack 
of  vittles  wid  me.  Hit  is  good  to  hear 
yo'  chaw  it,  and  see  how  yo'  relishes  it! 
Cose  I  mustn't  be  onreasonable  and  speck 
103 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    *    Jj    *    *    *    * 

to  see  yo'  too  often,  kase  I  knows  yo'  is 
pow'fully  busy  lookin'  after  yo'  flock  and 
kaint  be  worried  wid  a  backslidin'  old 
sinner  like  I  is." 

Her  voice  became  quite  eloquent  as  she 
painted  with  a  master  touch  her  sympa 
thetic  understanding  of  the  busy  and 
responsible  life  of  Brother  Sneezeweed. 
She  had  an  object  to  accomplish,  so  she 
used  every  resource  to  restore  their 
original  love.  She  related  many  of  her 
experiences,  giving  those  of  a  matrimo 
nial  tendency  a  predominance,  as  best 
calculated  to  produce  the  right  condition 
of  mind.  The  influence  of  this  treatment 
was  apparent  in  the  humble  tones  of 
Brother  Sinkiller's  voice  as  he  began  talk 
ing. 

"Hush  up,  Sistah  Simmons!  My 
greatest  joy  is  in  lookin'  after  my  sheep 
104 


JEST  MIDDLIN'  PEART     *    *    # 

to  see  dat  no  wolves  gits  into  my  flock  and 
devours  my  lambs.  Huh !  I  reckon  hit's 
a  po'  shepherd  dat  kaint  go  into  de  moun 
tains  and  valleys  to  comfot  a  po'  offlicted 
sheep  'casionally!  Dey  is  jest  as  impo- 
tant  as  de  ninety-and-nine  at  home.  In 
de  humbleness  of  yo'  speerit  yo'  is  stayin' 
in  de  valley  of  de  shadder  of  sorrer. 
What  am  dis  sorrer  dat  'flicts  yo'  so  pow'- 
fully,  my  beloved  sistah?" 

"Well,  Brudder  Sinkiller,  my  sorrers 
and  sins  am  'cordin'  to  de  old  hym, 
'Many  like  de  sands  of  de  sea!'  Hit 
seem  I  jest  natchelly  love  sin.  De  lone- 
somer  I  gits,  de  mo'  sinful  things  I  thinks 
of !  I'se  allus  had  some  one  to  comfot  me, 
and  dis  heah  widder's  life  ain't  'cordin' 
to  my  way  of  thinkin'.  Sometimes  in  my 
despair  and  anguish,  I  sez,  'git  thee  be 
hind  me  Satan,'  and  he  gits  behind  me  and 
105 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS 


foces  me  into  still  wusser  things.  I  fits 
evil  from  mornin'  till  night;  but  hit's  jest 
like  tryin'  to  kill  all  de  weevils  in  a  corn- 
crib  wid  yo'  finger  nails,  de  mo'  yo'  kills 
de  mo'  yo'  sees.  I  hates  to  —  t-to  say  hit, 
my  beloved  pastor,  but  I  feels  like  hit 
would  be  best  fo'  yo'  not  to  come  to  see 
me  no  mo'  till  I  gits  mo'  Christen-like! 
I  jest  kaint  tell  what  I  mout  do  or  say." 

"Dat's  all  right  Sistah  Simmons,  we  all 
is  mo'  or  less  liable  to  be  tempted  to  do 
de  onchristen  like  things,  at  times.  I'se 
gwine  to  come  over  here  to  see  yo'  every 
night;  I  done  been  neglectin'  yo'  too 
much.  Jest  seems  I'se  been  so  busy  dat  I 
couldn't  git  around  to  give  yo'  a  season 
able  wod  of  comfot!" 

Without  the  "hant"  to  aid  her  Aunt 
Moriah  would  have  scored  no  easy  vic 
tory;  but  the  thought  of  her  falling  from 
1  06 


\VY 

"FsE  GWINE  TO  COME  EVERY  NIGHT' 


JEST  MIDDLIN?  PEART     *    *    * 

grace,  the  long  lonely  nights  with  a  hant 
sawing  on  his  stove  pipe,  old  age  creeping 
on,  and  the  possibility  of  rinding  no  one 
else  that  would  marry  him — all  these 
broke  Brother  Sinkiller's  spirit  of  resist 
ance. 

"Seems  yo'  is  de  onlyst  one  what  can 
comfot  me,  Brudder  Sinkiller!  Yo' 
know  since  my  po'  husband  died  jest  de 
sound  of  a  sympathizin'  male  voice  nearly 
throws  me  into  a  quaar  spell,  I  means  a 
lonesome  fit  sorter  like  dem  what  yo'  has. 
Please  excuse  me,  Brudder  Sinkiller,  but 
my  po'  lips  is  jest  hankerin' — my  Lawd! 
I  hope  you  won't  think  I  talks  other  than 
Christen-like,  but  yo'  know  the  scripture 
sez  to  greet  one  another  wif  — " 

"Wif  a  holy  kiss  my  beloved  sistah;  dat 
dey  do !  De  way  yo'  calls  out  scripture, 
Sistah  Simmons,  shows  dat  de  love  of 
107 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    *    *    Ji    *    jt    * 

Gawd  is  in  yo'  heart  Nothin'  else  could 
so  quicken  yo'  mind,  and  make  yo'  ricol- 
lect  so  well.  I'd  been  tryin'  fo'  nigh 
on  ten  minutes  to  think  of  dat  scripture!" 

"Go  long,  Brudder  Sinkiller,  wharfo' 
was  yo'  tryin'  to  ricollect  dat  verse?  Is 
yo'  thinkin'  of  applyin'  hit  to  some  beauti 
ful  onmarried  'oman  when  yo'  sees  her?" 

"Never  mind  'bout  what  I'm  going  to 
do!  Yo'  is  a  good  guesser,  and  I  wants 
to  tell  yo'  dat  I'se  done  found  de  most 
beautifullest  'oman  de  good  Lawd  ever 
made,  right  heah  in  dis  kitchen!" 

"Don't  talk  dat  way  to  me,  Brudder 
Sinkiller,  go  talk  hit  to  some  young  saint 
what  kin  be  of  more  service  to  yo'  in  yo' 
preachin'.  Sorrer  and  moanin'  is  fo'  me; 
not  sich  heavenly,  blissful  talk  as  what  yo' 
done  said.  I  so  misses  my  last  po'  hus 
band!"  Tears  trickled  down  her  wrin- 
108 


JEST  MIDDLIN?  PEART     *    *    * 

kled  face.  "We  was  jest  crazy  'bout  each 
other.  Please,  'scuse  me,  Brudder  Sin- 
killer,  but  hit  seems  I  jest  kaint  hep 
moaninV  Then  she  wiped  away  her 
copious  tears  with  a  red  bandanna,  and 
her  countenance  was  again  illuminated 
into  a  succession  of 
smiles,  but  a  touch  of 
sadness  came  over  it  as 
she  said: 

"I  allus  is  had  a  man, 
and  I'm  shoo  gwine  to 
have  anudder  one  fo' 
long,  if  I  has  to  marry  outin'  de  faith." 
This  last  was  given  as  a  kind  of  warning 
to  Brother  Sinkiller;  for  any  one  to  marry 
out  of  their  faith  was  an  impiety  not  to  be 
tolerated. 

It   was    a    late    hour    when    Brother 
Sneezeweed  arose  to  go  home.     His  host- 
109 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS 


ess  accompanied  him  to  the  door,  and  as 
a  farewell  word,  asked  him  to  repeat  his 
favorite  verse  of  scripture.  Much  to  her 
surprise  he  kissed  her,  as  he  said: 

"Dis  am  de  way  hit  say  to  greet  one 
'nother."  She  almost  fainted  with  de 
light  and  said  kittenishly,  "Go  on  home, 
B  rudder  Sneezeweed,  fo'  yo'  disgraces 
yo'sef  by  axin'  an  old  'oman  like  me  to 
walk  to  de  altar  wid  yoM  I  declar'  yo' 
is  a  case!" 

"Fo'  I  disgraces  myself!  Lawdy, 
'oman,  I'se  jest  waitin'  fo'  yo'  to  name  de 
day  when  we  perades  ourselves  to  dat 
altar!  I'll  be  de  proudest  man  in  Prune- 
ville!"  Then  after  another  radiant  fare 
well,  Brother  Sneezeweed  meandered 
home. 


no 


KAINT  BE  FO'CED 


CHAPTER  VII 

KAINT  BE  FORCED 

ALL  Pruneville  was  gossiping  about 
Aunt  Moriah's  and  Brother  Sin- 
killer's  engagement.  The  news  had 
spread  far  and  wide,  like  wild  fire;  even 
the  adjoining  towns  of  Phelps  and  Dodge 
had  heard  the  latest  sensation.  Some 
said  Aunt  Moriah  deserved  to  have 
Brother  Sinkiller  for  a  comfort  in  her  old 
age;  others  weren't  so  considerate,  and 
said  she  was  a  marrying  devil  and  would 
yet  lead  to  the  altar  the  husbands  of  more 
than  one  of  the  sisters  of  the  Zion  Evan 
gelical  Church.  Those  who  had  prophe 
sied  against  her  matrimonial  aspirations 
in 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS 


before,  now  nodded  their  heads  sarcasti 
cally,  and  said  : 

"She  ain't  got  him  yit!  And  until  we 
sees  her  lead  him  to  de  altar,  our  'pinions 
is  gwine  to  remain  jest  de  same." 

On  the  following  Sunday  the  church 
was  crowded.  For  the  first  time  in  its 
history,  every  member  of  the  congrega 
tion  was  present;  even  Sister  Elephanto- 
pus  Amazonia,  who,  owing  to  her  avoir 
dupois,  amounting  to  five  hundred  and 
ninety  pounds,  had  not  been  to  church  for 
eleven  years.  The  fact  was,  she  could 
not  get  into  the  church,  as  the  doors  were 
entirely  too  small  ;  but  much  to  her  com 
fort,  Brother  Sinkiller  had  often  assured 
her  that  the  gates  of  heaven  would  be 
larger,  and  that  even  she  could  enter! 
On  this  auspicious  occasion  she  sat 
just  outside  the  church  door  on  an 
112 


KAINT  BE  FORCED 


immense  block  of  wood,  formerly  used  as 
a  step  to  mount  horses  from. 

Inside  the  church  everything  was  bus 
tle  and  confusion;  a  single  glance  was* 
sufficient  to  tell  that  something  very  un 
usual  was  in  the  air.  Every  one  present 
seemed  to  want  to  sit  near  Sister  Slippery- 
elm,  who,  as  usual,  was 
the  walking  encyclope 
dia  of  knowledge  re 
garding  the  new  en 
gagement.  The  brothers 
and  sisters  were  piling 
into  their  seats;  all 
seemed  anxious  to  talk;  at  last  old  Sister 
Frazzletit  leaned  over  the  bench  and 
whispered  to  Sister  Tempy: 

"I  spose  yo's  heerd  'bout  Sister  Sim 
mons'  'gagement  to  B  rudder  Sneezeweed? 
Don't  you  think  dat  was  purty  quick  for 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS 


a  Christian  widder  to  git  'gaged?  .  .  . 
Yo'  don't  know  what  I'm  talkin'  'bout? 
Lawdy,  goodness!  Have  yo'  been 
asleep?  Yessum,  jes'  like  I  done  tol'  yo', 
Mrs.  Simmons'll  soon  be  the  Reverend 
Mrs.  Sinkiller  Sneezeweed!" 

Brother  Sinkiller  roaring  forth  denun 
ciations  from  the  pulpit  was  a  prophet; 
but  Brother  Sinkiller  chasing  after  Aunt 
Moriah  was  a  subject  for  ridicule. 

"Dey  sho'ly  co'ted  mouty  quick,"  re 
sponded  Sister  Tempy,  as  she  took  a  fresh 
dip  of  snuff  and  passed  her  bottle  around 
to  the  other  sisters.  "Hit  do  seem  like 
she'd  a  moaned  till  the  grass  growed  ovah 
her  las'  po'  husband's  grave;  but  I  spose 
she  ain't  one  of  dem  long-drawn-out 
kinder  moaners." 

At  this  moment  Brother  Sneezeweed 
arose  and  opened  the  service  by  prayer, 
114 


KAINT  BE  FORCED    *    *    *    *    * 

as  usual,  followed  by  a  hymn  and  then  the 
collection.  On  this  occasion  the  atten 
tion  of  the  audience  was  divided  between 
him  and  the  door.  Anxious  faces  kept 
watching  for  his  fiancee,  but  she  did  not 
appear. 

They  were  all  accustomed  to  being 
shocked,  both  in  regard  to  the  sermons 
and  the  general  conduct  while  in  church, 
and  they  rather  liked  it.  But  this  day 
they  were  in  for  an  unusual  treat,  and  one 
that  would  give  much  material  for  gossip. 
As  long  as  they  could  remember,  Sister 
Moriah  had  worn  blacks  or  very  dark 
colors;  especially  her  hats  had  been  of  the 
most  conventional  colors  and  shapes,  and 
always  suitable  for  a  woman  of  her  ma 
ture  years,  even  a  saint  after  whom  the 
younger  and  more  worldly  women  might 
follow.  But  alas — their  astonishment 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    <*    *    *    *    *    # 

was  complete  when  she  finally  did  ap 
pear! 

No  wonder  that  she  came  late,  for 
'Betty  Morgan  had  spent  three  hours  in 
putting  the  finishing  touches  to  her 
make-up.  She  was  indeed  a  wonder  to 
behold — arrayed  in  a  gorgeous  crimson 
gown,  bedecked  with  floating  ribbons, 
lace,  and  spangles;  wearing  a  bonnet 
which  seemed  purposely  designed  to  rep 
resent  a  horticultural  show  on  a  small 
scale,  and  with  enough  peacock  feathers 
to  hoodoo  the  entire  population  of  Prune- 
ville.  As  a  culmination  to  all  this  finery 
and  feathers  there  was  perched  on  the  top 
of  her  hat  an  immense  stuffed  red  and 
yellow  parrot,  ravishing  in  its  splendour! 
Incredible  as  it  seems,  Aunt  Moriah  was 
moulded  into  the  form  of  a  Venus,  and 
looked  not  a  day  older  than  twenty-five. 
116 


KAINT  BE  FORCED    *    *    *    *    * 

She  moved  up  the  aisle  with  the  grace  and 
dignity  of  a  youthful  queen,  turning 
neither  to  the  right  nor  to  the  left,  and 
deliberately  seated  herself  in  the  amen 
corner. 

About  three  minutes  later  old  Bulger 
paraded  himself  up  the  aisle  wearing  a 
large  red  ribbon  on  his  neck,  and  lay  on 
the  floor  near  Aunt  Moriah.  A  tremen 
dous  burst  of  laughter  came  from  the  con 
gregation,  relieving  the  insupportable 
tension  of  their  feelings.  Some  of  the 
sisters  giggled  and  some  sighed ;  the  men 
actually  swallowed  their  quids  when 
Aunt  Moriah  paraded  herself  up  the 
aisle.  Old  Brother  Joshua  nudged 
Brother  Zack  and  whispered,  "She  am 
sholy  some  bird!" 

The  sisters  were  jealous;  they  had 
never  seen  such  wonderful  colors,  and 
117 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS 


Aunt  Moriah  would  henceforth  be  re 
membered  as  the  despair  of  all  lovers  of 
gay  colors  and  fancy  dress.  Even  Sister 
Elephantopus  craned  her  neck  clear  into 
the  church  that  she  might  watch  the  ce 
lebrity,  and  was  so  astounded  that  she 
began  talking  aloud  to  herself: 

"I'd  never  b'leeve  that  am  Sister  Sim 
mons!  If  hit  is  she  ought  to  be  chuched 
fo'  dressin'  herself  up  in  such  wo'ldly  re 
galia.  Hones'  to  Gawd,  if  I  was  in  that 
chu'ch  I'd  riz  up  and  leave  jes  to  show 
my  natu'al  contemp'  fo'  such  wo'ldliness. 
How  I  would  love  to  punch  dat  boid 
offen  her  hat  an'  grab  her  by  the  goozle 
and  squoze  the  breff  outin  her.  She's 
done  gone  and  ruined  the  speeritual  con 
dition  of  dese  po'  men  fo'  de  nex'  week  to 


come." 


This  gossip  did  not  reach  Aunt  Mo- 
118 


KAINT  BE  FO'CED 


* 


riah's  ears;  nor  would  it  have  disturbed 
her  if  it  had,  for  she  was  far  more  inter 
ested  in  flourishing  her  "hawk-tail"  fan 
with  its  numerous  streamers,  each  sup 
porting  a  dainty  rabbit's  foot.  No  one 
knew  better 
than  she  that 
this  was  her 
day;  and  even 


she  was  not  aware  of  the  climax  of  her 
victory,  until  the  church  services,  which 
were  unusually  short,  were  over.  She 
heard  several  uncomplimentary  remarks 
intended  for  her  ears,  such  as,  "Dis  is  de 
skandelizenist  doins  I  is  ever  seed!"  from 
119 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    a 


Sister  Dilsey,  and  "Dar  goes  de  peacock!" 
from  Sarah  Jane  Simpkins,  safely  en 
sconced  behind  a  nearby  fence.  Sister 
Amazonia,  talking  to  Brother  Swizzle, 
was  heard  to  remark: 

"I  hears  dat  she  am  gwine  to  have  a 
pow'ful  church  weddin';  dat's  her  all 
right.  I  sholy  would  love  to  quote  a  few 
words  from  the  Postle  Poll  to  her  on 
pride."  To  which  Brother  Swizzle  re 
plied: 

"Hit  pears  to  me  like  she  would  have 
a  broomstick  weddin',  bein'  as  she  has 
been  married  so  many  times  in  church." 

"Dat  looks  like  weddin'  paraphanalia 
she's  got  on,"  continued  Sister  Amazonia, 
anxious  to  draw  him  out  on  her  dress,  as 
the  huge  ox-cart  was  driven  up  to  the 
door,  preparatory  to  hauling  the  mam 
moth  woman  into  the  vehicle. 
1  20 


KAINT  BE  FO'CED    * 


"Lawdy,  no!"  replied  Brother  Swizzle, 
but  he  was  rather  interested  in  this  char 
acteristically  feminine  subject  for  gossip, 
and  continued,  "Yo'  ain't  seed  no  fine 
dressin'  yit;  jest  wait  till  dat  conspicuous 
time!  B'leeve  me,  dat  'oman  is  gwine  to 
outshine  de  Queen  of  Sheeba  on  her 
weddin'  day!  I  knows  her;  niggers 
am  niggers!"  Brother  Swizzle  nodded 
knowingly  as  he  reached  for  a  chew  of 
navy.  And  so  the  gossip  continued  as 
Brother  Sneezeweed  and  Aunt  Moriah 
received  congratulations. 

In  some  way  the  news  leaked  out  that 
they  were  going  to  New  Orleans  to  buy 
their  wedding  clothes.  This  made  the 
jealous  sisters  fairly  gasp,  and  during 
their  new  excitement,  as  a  climax  to  the 
triumph  of  this  matrimonial  and  religious 
celebrity  and  social  queen,  up  drove 
121 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    «*    *    *    #    *    # 

Henry  Neill  and  Betty  Morgan  in  Neill's 
big  touring  car,  and  took  Aunt  Moriah 
and  Brother  Sneezeweed  in  with  them. 
Those  few  members  of  the  congregation 
that  had  started  away  returned  to  join  in 
the  gossip.  The  sisters  that  had  indulged 
themselves  in  the  dream  of  becoming  the 
future  Mrs.  Sneezeweed,  were  now  most 
bitter  in  their  denunciations.  Some  of 
the  more  worldly  minded  were  even  so 
inconsiderate  as  to  insinuate  that  Sister 
Simmons  gloried  in  the  death  of  her  hus 
bands  that  she  might  again  add  to  her  list 
of  victories. 


122 


SISTAH  SIMMONS'  TRIP  <* 


CHAPTER  VIII 

SISTAH  SIMMONS'  TROUSSEAU  TRIP 

TWO  weeks  later  the  Morgan  kitchen 
was  the  scene  of  much  excitement; 
the  favorite  of  the  family  had  returned. 
"Oh,  Aunt  Moriah! 
how   happy   I    am    to 
see    you    back    in    the 
kitchen."    And    Betty 
knocked      the      churn 
over  in  her  excitement, 
and  laughed  with  joy. 
"What  kind  of  a  time  did  you  have  in 
New  Orleans?" 

"Lawdy,  honey!     Ef  I  ever  gits  myself 
engaged  again  after  my  nex'  marriage, 
123 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    «*    *    *    *    *    * 

I'se  gwine  to  marry  in  my  moanin'  clothes 
fo'  I  goes  to  dat  town  any  mo'.  I  jest  did 
scape  wid  my  life;  but  dey  got  my  new 
red  stockins  wid  spangles  on  'em,  boff  of 
my  new  snuff  boxes,  broke  two  of  my  false 
teef  out,  stole  three  yards  of  weddin' 
veilin'  wif  a  pink  border,  tuck  one  of  my 
green  garters  wif  a  weddin'  epigram  writ 
in  Grick  and  'gin  to  me  by  my  fleanchee. 
Dat  very  garter  I  was  hopin'  to  wear  to 
my  funeral.  Yessum,  dey  got  my  palm 
leaf  fan  and  bull-frog  snuff  box.  Dat 
box  was  de  quaarest  thing  I  ever  see,  you 
could  jest  squeeze  de  end  of  it  and  so  hep 
me  Gawd  ef  de  mouff  wouldn't  open  so 
you  could  take  a  dip,  but  dey  took  it  wif 
lots  of  other  things.  I  wouldn't  a-cared 
fo'  nothin'  if  they  hadn't  tooken  my  chim- 
mey,  what  I  done  paid  fo'  dollars  and 
leben  cents  fo'.  Law,  chile,  it  had  a  little 
124 


SISTAH  SIMMONS'  TRIP  *    *    * 

spider's  web  worked  on  the  front,  and  all 
round  the  boos'm  was  little  teenchy  red 
spiders.  Huh,  dat  was  some  weddin' 
chimmey!" 

"  My,  but  you  did  have  some  misfor 
tunes!"  said  Betty.  "Sit  right  down  and 
have  a  cup  of  coffee;  it  isn't  as  good  as 
you  make,  but  I  have  done  my  best — and 
tell  me  all  about  your  trip." 

"Well,  honey,  I  tole  yo'  fleanchee, 
Henry  Neill,  when  I  sez  goodbye,  dat 
New  Orleans  had  to  apologize  to  me  or 
I  wouldn't  wipe  my  feet  on  deir  streets 
to  save  'em  from  tormint.  Lawsy,  chile, 
I  sholy  was  insulted  while  I  was  speakin' 
fo'  female  siffrage!  Yessum,  I  done  turnt 
to  a  siffrigist;  I'm  clean  fo'  'em,  and  if 
Sinkiller  Sneezewood  ain't  one  of  'em 
purty  soon,  he  ain't  nevah  gwine  to  lead 
Mrs.  Simmons  to  no  altar  as  his  bride. 
125 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    *    *    *    *    *    * 

I'd   let   de   moths   eat   all   my  weddin' 
clothes  fust!" 

"Did  you  buy  any  nice  things  besides 
those  that  were  stolen  from  you?"  asked 
Betty.  "And  where  in  the  world  did  you 
get  so  much  money?" 

"Don't  axe  me  so  many  questions, 
honey,  till  I  tells  yo'  some  of  de  numuous 
things  pesterin'  my  mind.  Hones'  I'se 
got  so  much  to  say  dat  I  hardly  knows 
whar  to  'gin.  In  de  fust  place,  I  knows 
yo'  is  gwine  to  be  terribly  ang'y  wid  me, 
but  I  jest  had  to  use  my  own  jedgmint  in 
de  mattah,  and  I  knowed  yo'  was  so  young 
and  foolish  dat  yo'  didn't  know  jest  what 
was  de  best  thing  to  be  done.  Well,  I'se 
done  gone  and  done  hit — !"  she  chuckled 
to  herself,  trying  to  suppress  her  fits  of 
laughter  till  Betty  was  wild  with  curi 
osity. 

126 


SISTAH  SIMMONS'  TRIP  J    *    * 

"But,"  continued  Aunt  Moriah, 
"Henry  Neill  sholy  did  relish  dem  home 
made  molasses;  Gawd  knows  he  done  et 
de  las'  drap  of  'em  fo'  I  left  dar!" 

"Surely,    Aunt    Moriah,    you    didn't 
carry  Mr.  Neill  a  jug  of 
molasses    clear    to    New 
Orleans?"  asked  Betty  in 
despair. 

"Dat's  zackly  what  I 
done,  honey,  and  dat 
warn't  all  I  fetched  him. 
I  karried  him  three  godes  of  my  fresh 
soap,  two  dominecker  pullets,  so  fat  dat 
dey  could  scacely  walk,  one  of  Marse 
Lije's  fresh  shoate  hams,  two  strings  of 
red  peppers  and  onions,  one  peck  of  goo 
bers  dat  I  grabbled  myse'f,  a  kerosine  can 
of  fresh  butter  milk,  and  a  bundle  of 
roots  and  yarbs  to  physic  hissef  wid  when 
127 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    <*    *    *    *    *    # 

he  is  sick.  Dem  yarbs  am  pow'fully  good 
for  livah  trubble,  fits,  dropsy,  and  all  sich 
ailments." 

"For  heaven's  sake!"  exclaimed  Betty. 
"What  in  the  world  did  you  take  all 
those  things  for?" 

"Huh,  I  reckon  a  lady  kin  take  her 
city  f rens  a  few  raisins  from  de  kintry,  ef 
she  want  to,  specially  if  she's  gwine  to  be 
intertained  fo'  any  length  of  time!  Oh, 
dat  sholy  was  a  fine  trip  on  dem  cars !  I 
left  dat  Sinkiller  nigger  to  watch  de 
things  whilst  I  went  down  near  de  branch 
to  git  me  some  good  tooth  brushes,  dem 
sarsasspharass  sprouts  make  de  very  best, 
and  I  knowed  dar  warn't  none  in  New 
Orleans. 

"Well,  when  I  come  back  from  de 
branch  what  does  yo'  think  I  found? 
Dr.  Sinkiller  was  sleepin'  sound  as  a  log; 

128 


SISTAH  SIMMONS'  TRIP  *    *    * 

dem  po'  pullets  was  pantin'  fo'  breff,  and 
de  ants  was  crawlin'  all  in  my  molasses. 
De  fust  thing  I  knowed  I  hears  dem  cars 
comin'  ramblin'  and  snortin'  down  de 
track,  goin'  I  speck  'bout  a  million  miles 
a  minit.  'Wake!  Wake  up!  dar,'  I 
shouted.  'Wake  up,  man,  and  git  on  de 
cars!'  Den  I  growed  angry  and  jest 
natchelly  whipped  him  up  wid  my  sass- 
frass  sprouts.  But  Lawsy,  by  dat  time  I 
had  grabbed  up  most  of  de  things  and  dat 
fool  train  hadn't  even  hesitated,  but  was 
flyin'  around  de  curve,  I  chased  after  hit 
hollerin'  de  engineer  to  stop ;  but  he  jest 
wave  his  hand  at  me  and  laff  and  by  dat 
time  de  train  was  clear  outin'  sight.  So 
we  waited  till  one  come  along  what  did 
stop  and  got  on. 

"  'Twarn't  long  till  de  boss  of  de  kar 
come  along.     Dr.  Sneezeweed  was  snor- 
129 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS 


in'  so  loud  dat  even  de  pullets  cackled, 
so  I  didn't  want  to  wake  him  up,  and  I 
give  boff  de  tickets  to  de  boss.  Cose  I  is 
rid  on  de  cars  befo'  and  I  knows  all  about 
hit.  Well,  dat  boss  of  de  car  sholy  am 
one  sociable  gentlemanlified  pusson.  He 
done  'gin  axin'  me  questions  in  de  most 
politest  manner.  He  say: 

"  'Is  yo'  got  everything  wid  yo'  dat  yo' 
intended  to  bring?' 

"I  'low  dat  I  sholy  have  from  'lasses  to 
yarbs  and  roots  fo'  Henry  Neill's  ail 
ments. 

"Next  thing  I  knowed  we  was  close  to 
New  Orleans;  and  it  'peared  like  I  was 
never  gwine  to  git  Dr.  Sinkiller  awake. 
Dat  nigger  was  so  sleepy  and  stupid  dat 
I  actually  had  to  give  him  a  leetle  of  my 
blackberry  juice,  what  I  had  brung  along 
in  a  vinegar  bottle,  to  wake  him  up.  Dat 
130 


'Yo'  AIN'T  GWINE  TO  PUT  ALL  DEM  TINGS  IN  MY  MACHINE' 


SISTAH  SIMMONS'  TRIP  *    *    * 

kinder  acted  like  a  toddy  and  he  hilt  his 
haid  up  like  dem  town  niggers." 

"Did  you  have  any  trouble  in  finding 
Mr.  Neill's  home?"  inquired  Betty. 

"Yessum  and  no'am;  yo'  see  'twas  dis 
way,  I  had  done  lost  de  number  of  his 
house,  so  as  dar  was  a  lot  of  automobiles 
standin'  dar,  wid  fine  dressed  men  by  'em, 
I  jest  perculated  to  de  doo  and  call  out 
loud:  'Come  heah  automobiler!'  seben 
times,  or  hit  mout  a-been  eight. 

"A  great  big,  fat,  grinny  man,  walked 
up  and  sez,  'All  right,  lady!  But  sholy 
yo'  ain't  gwine  to  put  all  dem  jugs,  cans, 
baskits,  and  chickens,  in  my  machine?' 
I  was  already  a-sotin'  my  gode  of  soap  on 
de  front  seat,  whar  I  had  done  tied  my 
pullets.  All  dem  other  automobilers  was 
jest  laffin',  but  I  sot  in  the  back  seat. 

"'Hush  up  dat  talkin'  to  me,  nigger!' 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    *    *    *    *    *    * 

sez  I.  'You'se  my  sarvint  and  I  ain't  de 
kind  of  a  lady  to  confabulate  wid  yo'  on 
de  streets.  I  reckon  yo'  don't  know  dat 
I  used  to  be  a  s'ciety  belle  right  heah  in 
dis  very  town!  Yo'  needn't  think  yo'  kin 
scrope  up  an  acquaintance  wid  me !'  Dat 
brung  him  to  time,  and  he  growed  meek 
as  a  whipped  puppy,  and  sed: 

"  Whar  is  yo'  gwine  to  stop,  marm?' 
"  'Somethin'  is  wrong  wid  yo'  haid, 
nigger!'  I  spressed  myse'f  quite  dignified 
and  lady-like.  'Ef  I  had  knowed  whar 
Henry  Neill  lived  does  yo'  think  yo'd  be 
drivin'  around  on  dese  streets  wid  me? 
Is  yo'  never  heerd  of  Henry  Neill? 
Well,  den  yo'  is  a  strange  nigger  in  dis 
heah  town.' 

"He  shoo  was  tooken  down,  so  I  sez, 
'Jest  drive   along  slow,   maybe   I'll   see 
somebody  I  knows  and  ax  'em  de  way, 
132 


SISTAH  SIMMONS'  TRIP  <*    *    * 

bein'  as  yo'  is  sich  a  greenho'n.  But  yo' 
is  bleeged  to  diskiver  whar  Henry  Neill 
libes,  and  take  me  dar  or  I  ain't  gwine  to 
pay  yo'  nary  cent,  and  I'm  gwine  to  stay 
in  dis  automobile  all  day,  if  yo'  don't  find 
him.' 

"  What  does  Henry  Neill  do?'  sez  he. 

"Den  I  growed  furagious,  'good 
Lawd,  man!'  sez  I,  'what  does  yo'  think 
he  is  been  studyin'  wid  paints  and  brushes 
all  dis  heah  time,  if  he  warn't  gwine  to 
be  a  painter?  Ef  yo'  will  take  me  to  de 
police  station  I'll  have  yo'  'rested  jest  fo' 
yo'  ignance.'  Den  he  got  out  and  went 
into  a  drug  stoo,  and  come  out  and  sez: 

"  'I'll  have  to  leave  yo'  at  dis  leetle 
hotel  across  de  street  'till  I  finds  Mr. 
Neill.' 

"He  put  us  out  and  driv  away,  and  he 
ain't  come  fo'  his  money  yit.  I  spose  he 
133 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    *    *    #    *    *    # 

didn't  have  the  narve  to  ax  fo'  his  money 
lessen  he  found  Henry  Neill.  Well,  we 
tuck  rooms  in  de  hotel,  but  I  didn't  sleep 
much  kase  of  de  noise  dar  was  all  round. 
De  next  mornin'  I  walked  out  on  de 
streets  and  bless  me  ef  dar  warn't  my 
leetle  Henry  jest  drivin'  along  in  dat  big 
car  of  hisn.  He  sholy  was  glad  to  see 
me,  and  he  tuck  me  and  Dr.  Sneezeweed 
right  over  to  his  house.  Dar  we  shoo 
lived  in  gran'  style.  Evy  night  we  talked 
till  late,  or  went  to  shows,  sarcuses,  or 
movin'  pictures, — and  had  one  pow'ful 
good  time! 

"But  de  best  of  all  de  times  was  at  de 
sarcus.  Miss  Betty,  chile,  dat  tent  was 
biggern  four  meetin'  houses.  Me  and 
Henry  Neill  and  his  maw  and  Dr. 
Sneezeweed  all  went.  Dar  was  var 
mints  from  'possums  to  hippopotomuses. 

134 


SISTAH  SIMMONS'  TRIP  *    *    * 

Hones'  I  scacely  bleeve  dat  Noah  hissef 
had  so  many  varmints  in  de  ark.  Honey, 
instid  of  one  sarcis  dar  was  three,  all 
goin'  at  once;  wimmen  and  men  was 
doin'  all  kinds  of  things  away  up  in  de 
air. 

"I  jest  did  'scape  wid  my  life.  Yo' 
know  dey  fetched  out  one  of  de  puniest, 
meekest-lookin'  mare  mules,  and  de  man 
sez  dat  any  one  what  rides  Maud! — yes- 
sum,  dat  was  her  name — kin  have  fifty 
dollars.  Huh !  I  was  gwine  to  have  dat 
money  shoo!  Jest  de  'mount  we  owes  on 
our  church  orgin.  But  no  suh,  Henry 
Neill  actually  hilt  me,  sayin'  de  devil  his 
sef  can't  ride  dat  beast.  I  soon  seed  my 
error,  fo'  a  po'  fool  man  tried  to  ride  her, 
and  dey  picked  up  a  baskit  full  of  his 
f  ragmints.  All  we  saw  of  Maud  was  jest 
her  tail  stickin'  straight  up  through  de 

135 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    * 


dust  in  de  tent.     Golly,  she  was  an  awful 
mule! 

"Well,  den  dat  was  my  last  sarcus,  and 
de  next  mornin'  me  and  Dr.  Sinkiller 
packed  our  things,  and  Henry  Neill  car 
ried  us  to  de  depot  in  his  car.  We  rid 
dem  cars  home,  and  de  very  next  time  I 
gits  married  I'se  gwine  to  marry  in  my 
moanin'  clothes  befo'  I'll  go  clar  to  New 
Orleans  fo'  new  ones.  Yessum,  Sistah 
Simmons  has  done  made  her  last  trous 
seau  trip  1" 


136 


B'LEEVES  IN  MARRIAGE* 


CHAPTER  IX 

B'LEEVES  POW'FULLY  IN  MARRIAGE 

AUNT  MORIAH,  with  a  sympathy 
born  of  fellow  feeling,  had  inter 
ceded  subtly,  but  effectively,  for  Henry 
Harmon  Neill  with  Elijah  Morgan,  and 
Betty  was  to  be  married  in  January. 
These  were  busy  days  indeed! 

On  this  December  evening  Betty  had 
several  friends  present,  including  Lolita 
Davenport  and  Minerva  Quinn  from 
New  Orleans,  also  Henry  Neill  and  Bert 
had  come  to  spend  the  holidays.  These 
friends  had  come  for  the  double  purpose 
of  celebrating  Christmas,  and  also  to  at 
tend  Betty's  wedding  which  was  to  take 

137 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    <* 


place  directly  after.  It  was  one  week  be 
fore  Christmas  and  there  was  much  doing 
about  the  kitchen,  where  Aunt  Moriah, 
as  usual,  held  undisputed  sway;  and  she 
well  deserved  to,  for  no  kitchen  was  ever 
presided  over  by  a  wiser  or  more  skilled 
"boss." 

The  smell  of  pies,  cakes,  jams  and  all 
kinds  of  goodies  filled  the  air;  for  Aunt 
Moriah  was  not  only  cooking  for  the 
holidays  but  was  preparing  for  the  wed 
ding  feast.  To  increase  the  number  of 
guests  at  the  Morgan  home,  Aunt  Mo 
riah  had  also  added  to  her  other  burdens 
and  responsibilities  that  of  hostess  to  sev 
eral  of  her  "country  friends"  as  she 
termed  them,  by  which  she  meant  to  imply 
that  they  were  from  the  swamp  lands. 
Betty  knew  that  if  there  was  any  fun  to 
be  had  that  evening  it  would  be  over  at 

138 


B'LEEVES  IN  MARRIAGE*    *    * 

Aunt  Moriah's  quarters.  So,  when  sup 
per  was  over  and  Aunt  Moriah  had  fin 
ished  her  kitchen  work,  down  to  her  cabin 
they  went. 

There  sat  Aunt  Moriah  before  the  im- 


#^-  v  '  *=*  «-2— ^kto-4.^ 


mense  log  fire,   darning  stockings,   and 
talking  with  several  colored  friends  who 
were  eating  nuts  and  telling  stories.     Her 
eyes  sparkled  with  pride  as  she  welcomed 
Betty  and  her  friends  to  her  cabin. 
"Bless  my  soul,  ef  yo'  all  ain't  come 
139 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS 


down  heah  to  cheer  up  my  heart  fo' 
Christmas!"  exclaimed  the  old  negress, 
gratefully,  as  she  drew  up  the  chairs 
around  the  big  open  fireplace. 

"Jest  all  be  seated,"  she  continued  as 
she  piled  her  stockings  and  darning  egg 
into  her  work  basket.  "I  was  jest 
mendin'  my  Sunday  stockins  fo'  de  big 
darnce." 

Bert  shouted  with  laughter,  not  so 
much  at  what  she  said  but  just  from  pure 
joy  in  anticipation  of  the  funny  things 
that  were  to  come. 

"Huh!  Is  yo'  done  forgot  de  manners 
I  brung  yo'  up  wid,  chile?"  snapped  Aunt 
Moriah.  "Dar  ain't  no  impoliteness  in 
de  wod  stockins!  I  declar'  yo'  is  gittin' 
monstrous  perlite  since  yo'  is  been  away 
to  schule.  I  reckon  yo'  used  to  be  pow'- 
ful  glad  when  Santa  Claus  rilled  yo' 
140 


B'LEEVES  IN  MARRIAGE*    *    a 

stockins  wid  candies  and  apples  and  all 
kinds  of  good  things.  Den  yo'  used  to 
climb  on  my  lap  and  cry  cause  yo'  leetle 
stockins  waren't  big  enough,  and  yo' 
wanted  Santa  Claus  to  fill  mine  fo'  yo'. 
Is  yo'  done  forgot  dem  days?"  nodded  the 
old  negress,  triumphantly,  as  she  saw 
Bert's  utter  bewilderment  at  his  exposure 
before  the  girls. 

"Oh,  don't  mind  him,  Aunt  Moriah," 
said  Betty  entreatingly,  "we  came  down 
here  to  get  you  to  tell  us  some  stories." 

"Yes,  that's  what  we  want;  do  tell  us 
some,"  pleaded  Lolita. 

Bert  had  moved  over  to  a  corner  and 
was  lighting  a  cob  pipe  which  he  had 
recently  learned  to  smoke.  Of  course, 
Aunt  Moriah  knew  nothing  of  his  new 
accomplishment.  Her  wrath  reached 
boiling  point  when  she  noticed  what  he 
141 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS 


was  doing,  and  her  eyes  swelled  up  as  big 
as  a  cat's  eyes  as  she  began  : 

"Well,  f  o'  de  good  Lawd  !  What  is  yo' 
doin',  boy?  Ain't  yo'  ashamed  to  be 
smokin'  dat  co'n  pipe,  right  heah  fo'  yo' 
Aunt  'Riah  and  all  dese  young  ladies? 
Yo'  ain't  no  man!  I 
'members  yo'  was  de 
hardest  nusser  I  ever 
seed;  ackually  I  had 
to  wean  yo'  fo'  yo'  was 
one  year  old  jest  fo'  yo' 
smartness.  Dathaidof 
yo'n  is  as  empty  as  a  soap  gode.  Put  up 
dat  pipe  and  'backer  fo'  I  spanks  yo'  jest 
like  I  used  to!"  Bert  grinned,  and  pre 
tended  to  hide  the  pipe  under  his  chair, 
while  Aunt  Moriah  continued  talking. 

"Christmas   ain't  what  it  used  to  be 
when  I  was  young.     But  cose  yo'  chillen 
142 


B'LEEVES  IN  MARRIAGE*    *    * 

don't  know  nothin'  'bout  dem  good  old 
times.  Hit  was  joy  from  mornin'  till 
night;  evy  nigger  on  de  plantation  was 
happy.  We  culled  folks  had  our  frens 
visit  us  jest  de  same  as  de  white  folks,  and 
Gawd  knows  dis  very  old  cabin  has  sholy 
seen  some  darncin'!  I  has  sholy  wo'n 
out  many  a  pa'r  of  shoes  in  a  single  night 
from  darncin'!"  she  proudly  admitted. 
"Many  of  dem  gals  used  to  try  to  out 
darnce  me,  but  lawsy,  chillen,  dey 
couldn't  hold  a  candle  to  yo'  Aunt  'Riah !" 
She  laughed  at  the  memory  of  her  vic 
tories,  and  continued: 

"I  members  one  Christmas  mighty 
well!  I  sholy  was  de  reignin'  belle  dat 
night!  I  had  darnced  wid  evy  nigger  in 
dat  house  'ceptin'  one,  and  jest  as  me  and 
one  of  my  gemmen  frens  was  partakin'  of 
some  'freshments,  dis  man  stepped  up  to 
H3 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    <*    «*    .*    ^    .*    ^ 

me  and  sez,  Well,  yo'se  darnced  down,  is 
yo',  Miss  'Riah?'  I  jest  kinder  side 
glanced  at  my  beau  and  sez,  'Hold  dis 
drum  stick  and  tater  while  I  walks  off  a 
few  reels  wid  dis  heah  man!'  Bless  my 
soul  ef  I  didn't  like  dat  man  so  well  dat 
we  darnced  till  mornin'.  He  sholy  was  a 
terrible  nice  man ;  he  fed  me  on  gum  till 
my  jaws  was  tired.  I  do  wonder  whar  he 
is  now!"  She  chuckled  aloud  at  the  mere 
thought  of  the  joy  they  had  had. 

"What  kind  of  dances  did  you  do?"  in 
terrupted  Bert,  anxious  to  lead  her  on. 

"What  does  yo'  'spose  I  darnced?  .  .  . 
Of  course,  I  darnced  all  de  things  dat  de 
tother  ladies  did,  sich  as  de  Duck  Squiz- 
zle,  de  Possum  Waggle,  de  New  Orleans 
Moze,  and  de  most  hippercornotious  of 
all — de  Spider  Leg  Fling.  Yes,  I  for 
got  to  mention  de  Texas  Twattle;  only 
144 


B'LEEVES  IN  MARRIAGE*    *    ^ 

sich  as  had  good  forms  could  do  dat  one. 
Hit's  really  a  pow'ful  sinful  darnce,  but 
dem  was  de  days  befo'  I  got  'ligion  and 
jined  de  chuch.  Lawsy,  chillen,  dem 
folks  used  to  almost  pop  deir  eyes  out 
when  I  was  doin'  one  of  dem  high-tide 
darnces,  like  de  spider-leg  fling.  But 
arter  I  got  'ligion  I  only  did  de  'ligious 


ones." 


"Do  tell  us  what  the  religious  dances 
were?"  pleaded  Miss  Quinn.  Aunt  Mo- 
riah  looked  around  quickly,  as  though  she 
was  astonished  that  anybody  did  not  know 
about  the  different  dances. 

"De  onlyst  difference  'twixt  dem  and 
de  sinful  ones  am  dat  yo'  never  crosses 
yo'  legs  in  de  'ligious  darnces,  while  in 
de  woldly  ones  yo'  does." 

"I'd  rather  hear  about  how  you  resur 
rected  Miss  Simpkins  from  the  dead  last 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    *    *    *    *    *    * 

month  than  anything  else,"  suggested 
Henry  Neill,  as  Aunt  Moriah  piled  a 
fresh  supply  of  pine-knots  on  the  fire. 
He  well  knew  that  the  superstitious  awe 
with  which  the  negroes  regard  the  dead  is 
incurable. 

"Den  we'll  have  it!"  replied  Aunt  Mo 
riah,  enthusiastically.  "But  dar  ain't 
nothin'  I  tell  you  gwine  to  leak  outside,  is 
dar?  Kase  dese  is  secrets  of  de  'Misteous 
Lebenl'  Well,  it  all  happen  dis  way. 
Miss  Simpkins  had  died  fo'  de  foth  time 
in  three  months ;  evy  leetle  while  some  of 
de  niggers  would  go  runnin'  all  through 
de  kintry  tellin'  de  white  nabors  dat  Miss 
Simpkins  had  died  agin,  and  fo'  good, 
dat  is  she  was  shoo  nuff  daid.  And  evy 
time  dey  would  git  me  to  dress  de  copse. 
Cose  I  didn't  mind  dressin'  a  rail  daid 
copse,  but  till  I'm  shoo  hits  daid,  I 
146 


B'LEEVES  IN  MARRIAGE*    *    * 

wouldn't  touch  it  fo'  love  nor  money! 

"Well,  one  rainy  night  las'  month,  on 
de  dark  of  de  moon,  Sis  Calline  comes 
runnin'  over  to  see  if  I  would  dress  de 
copse  agin'.  Po'  Calline!  she  was  jest 
weepin'  and  wailin'  and  sayin'  how  de 
po'  copse  had  siffered  so  long  fo'  hit 
passed  away,  and  how  it  had  sich  a  gift 
fo'  ailments  of  all  kinds  from  epizudic  to 
locomotia  ataxia;  and  how  many  orgins  it 
had  to  have  carved  outin'  itself.  Po' 
thing!  she  said  it  hastened  its  death  by 
talking  so  much  'bout  its  opirations — hit 
was  jest  like  other  females  in  that  respect. 

"Dey  'lowed  dat  dar  was  only  one 
known  disease  dat  de  copse  hadn't  yit 
had,  and  dat  was  de  blind  staggers.  I 
knowed  dat  was  a  ho'ses  disease,  but  I 
didn't  say  nothin';  I  'low  to  myse'f  dat  if 
Miss  Simpkins  thought  dat  hit  was  a  fe- 
H7 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    *    *    *    *    *    * 

male's  disease,  she  warn't  gwine  to  really 
die  till  she  thunk  she  had  had  it.  So  I 
dressed  myse'f  up  in  my  moanin'  clothes, 
and  perculates  over  to  her  house.  Lawsy, 
chillen,  dey  was  weepin'  like  de  wold  had 
ended! 

"  'Is  yo'  come  over  to  dress  de  copse, 
and  view  its  last  remains?'  asked  Sister 
Dinah  as  she  opened  the  doo'. 

"I  'lowed  dat  I  had  been  sent  fo'  and 
had  'sponded  fo'  dat  purpose. 

"  'Bein'  as  yo'  has  dressed  hit  befo',  us 
members  of  de  Ladies  Auxiliary  S'ciety, 
and  Misteous  Leben,  thought  we  had  bet 
ter  git  yo'  to  dress  hit  dis  time,'  sed  she. 

"I  didn't  say  nothin',  but  I  prayed  dat 
I  wouldn't  have  to  dress  dat  copse  many 
mo'  times.  Hit  taint  no  fun  to  wok  and 
moan  fo'  nothin'.  When  I  moans,  I 
moans  fo'  de  daid!  Dis  fool  way  of 
148 


B'LEEVES  IN  MARRIAGE**    J    * 

moanin'  fo'  de  live  ones  ain't  'cordin'  to 
my  way  of  thinkin'.  Huh,  mo'  dan  once 
dat  very  same  copse  had  'cused  me  of 
flirtin'  wid  its  husband,  when  I  had  only 
tried  to  comfot  him  in  his  sorrer.  Hits 
a  mouty  unnaborly  pusson  what  kaint 
comfot  widowers  when  deir  wives  is  laid 
out  fo'  de  last  yearthly  exhibition. 

"Wellum,  fo'  rispect,  I  axed  about  de 
copses  simptons  fo'  it  had  died.  Bless 
my  soul!  Dar  warn't  no  simptons  it 
hadn't  had  from  swellin'  of  de  stomach  to 
fits  and  convulsions.  Jest  befo'  its  final 
departure  from  dis  vale  of  sorrer,  she  sed 
it  had  been  fastin'  fo'  leben  days,  but  dat 
it  et  a  leetle  snack  of  vittles  a  few  minites 
befo'  it  croaked,  consistin'  of  three  goose 
berry  pies,  a  glass  of  peach  marmalade, 
some  spar  ribs  of  fresh  shoate  biled  wid 
cabbages  and  onions,  and  a  few  fresh  cu- 
149 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    *    *    *    «*    «*    «* 

cumbers.  Then  I  axed  her  what  else  it 
et,  and  she  'lowed  dat  was  all.  I  thunk 
to  myse'f  dis  would  sholy  be  de  farewell 
time  to  lay  dat  copse  out! 

"So  dey  lead  me  into  de  deaff  chamber 
whar  hit  was.  Dar  laid  de  po'  copse! 
De  pitifullest  lookin'  object  I  ever  seed. 
I  knowed  at  once  what  was  de  mattah ;  it 
was  foundered!  .  .  .  Yo'  don't  know 
what  dat  is?  Lawsy,  chillen,  dat  means 
it  had  et  too  much  vittles! 

"Well,  I  could  heah  de  moaners  in  de 
next  room  talkin'  about  its  ailments,  and 
quaar  simptons.  But  po'  thing  hit  had 
sholy  been  lookin'  fo'  deth  to  knock  at  its 
doo',  fo'  it  had  been  savin'  snuff-bottles 
since  fo'  de  war  was  fit.  It  had  saved 
enough  to  put  a  double  row  around  its 
grave,  and  den  heap  up  a  leetle  monumint 
at  its  feet.  It  had  saved  its  medicine  bot- 
150 


B'LEEVES  IN  MARRIAGE^    *    * 

ties  to  build  de  haid  monumint  wid. 
How  pitiful  to  see  dat  barrel  full  of  pe- 
runa  bottles,  goose-ile  liniment  bottles, 
and  all  kinds  of  cans  and  bottles  what  it 
kept  its  yarbs  and  roots  in  to  physic  itself, 
but  now  it  would  save  no  mo' !  Dese  was 
its  message  to  de  cold  wold  of  its  ailments, 
simptons,  and  sufferings !" 

"She  wasn't  really  dead  that  time,  was 
she?"  queried  Betty. 

"Yessum  and  noam,"  responded  Aunt 
Moriah.  "De  fust  thing  I  seed  was  dat 
it  wasn't  good  daid,  but  I  couldn't  make 
up  my  mind  whether  it  was  Christen-like 
to  put  it  out  of  its  siffrens,  or  let  it  live  to 
die  again.  Well,  when  I  seed  its  stomach 
movin'  up  and  down  I  was  shoo  nuff  mad ! 
De  very  idea  me  wearin'  moanin'  clothes 
fo'  nothin'!  Den  I  'gins  to  move  de 
watah  bottles  and  mustard  plasters,  and 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS 


my  heart  was  really  touched  fo'  the  po' 
thing.  I  found  two  thermometers  in  its 
mouth  —  I  pulled  'em  out,  then  I  'gins  to 
loose  my  narve,  and  de  cold  sweat  jest 
drizzled  oflen  me!" 

"Were  you  scared?"  asked  Bert. 

"Was  I  skeered?  Honey,  my  knees 
was  tremblin'  like  graveyard  bones! 
Twice  I  had  to  take  a  teenchy  bit  of  toddy 
to  kinder  stiddy  me;  de  idea  dat  de  copse 
was  alive  is  what  flustrated  me  de  most. 
De  fust  thing  I  done  was  to  git  me  a  big 
pine-knot  from  de  fiah  place  so,  ef  hit  riz 
up  to  fit  me,  I  could  'fend  mysef.  Den 
I  calls  out:  'Arise  'oman!'  but  hit  jest 
laid  dar  daid-like.  Den  I  'lowed  dat  it 
couldn't  fool  me,  and  I  placed  two  two-bit 
pieces  over  its  eyes.  Hep  me  Lawd! 
One  of  dem  two-bit  pieces  riz  up  and 
rolled  often  its  eye!  Marcy,  if  it  had 
152 


•Jf 


\ 


"HIT'S  Too  BAD,  BUT  I  MUST  BLEED  Dis  Po'  CO'PSE' 


B'LEEVES  IN  MARRIAGE^    *    * 

giped  at  me — well,  dis  niggah  wouldn't 
be  heah  to  tell  de  story!" 

Her  audience  were  in  such  paroxysms 
of  laughter  that  Aunt  Moriah  had  to  wait 
until  they  were  ready  to  listen. 

"Hit  twarn't  so  funny  den,"  she  con 
tinued.  "Well,  as  I  was  sayin'  one  of 
dem  quarters  done  rolled  often  its  face, 
and  bless  me  ef  its  eye  didn't  open  jest  a 
leetle  teenchy  bit.  Lawdy,  I  was  pourin' 
cold  sweat!  I  knowed  what  hit  was 
doin'!  Shoo  I  did;  hit  was  watchin'  me! 
Jest  think  of  a  copse  watchin'  yo' !  I  seed 
hit  was  tryin'  to  skeer  me,  and  I  'lowed 
dat  if  dar  was  any  skeerin'  to  be  done,  dat 
I  had  better  do  hit.  So  I  draws  my  old 
razor  outin'  my  stockin',  and  I  sez  kinder 
loud-like,  so  it  could  heah  me:  'Hit's 
too  bad,  but  I  must  bleed  dis  po'  copse!' 
I  seed  my  plan  was  workin' ;  dat  copse  was 

153 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    # 


tremblin'  wid  de  wiggles.  Hit  was  pow'- 
fully  skeert,  so  I  walked  into  the  moaners 
room  to  give  it  a  chance  to  compose  itself. 
But  I  didn't  say  one  wod  to  de  moaners 
'bout  it  still  bein'  alive,  fo'  I  hadn't  yit 
decided  whether  to  end  its  misery  or  not. 
I  heerd  Sistah  Dinah  say: 

"  We  must  call  a  meetin'  of  de  Miste- 
ous  Leben  to  decide  on  a  suitable  motto 
fo'  its  tombstone,  and  git  a  preacher  to 
funeralize  over  hit.' 

"I  didn't  have  no  time  to  lucidate  on  de 
subject,  so  I  jest  slipped  quietly  back  into 
de  deaff  chamber.  Quick  as  gunpowder 
dat  copse  riz  up,  and  outin'  de  window  it 
went!  'I  is  resurrected  from  de  daid,  and 
now  I  has  de  blind  staggers!'  it  scream,  as 
it  run  fo'  de  bushes. 

"  'Come  hep  me,  brudders  and  sisters,' 
I  called  out  to  'em.  Into  de  deaff  cham- 

154 


B'LEEVES  IN  MARRIAGE*    <*    * 

ber  dey  come — one  and  all.  But  when 
dey  seed  what  had  happened! — out  of  de 
doo'  dey  went  screamin'  and  crying  'We 
is  hanted  fo'  life,  lessen  we  run  hit  down!' 
dey  yells. 

"Brudder  Zack  tore  down  to  Brudder 
Sinkiller's  to  git  his  hounds  to  chase  hit 
wid,  but  Brudder  Sinkiller  didn't  want 
his  dorgs  to  chase  copses,  and  spoke  up 
pintedly: 

"  'Yo'  is  a  fool  nigger  fo'  chasin'  dat 
po'  copse!  Wait  till  de  good  Lawd 
strikes  it  down!  Wharf  o'  am  yo'  sposed 
to  chase  hit?  Howbesomever,  I'm  allus 
willin'  to  hep  doctah  hit.' 

"Well,  I  knowed  de  copse  was  foolin' 
'em!  But  dey  soon  caught  it;  and  it  ain't 
never  been  sick  no  mo' !" 

Aunt  Moriah  walked  to  the  fire  place, 
and  after  piling  in  several  big  pine-knots, 

155 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS 


suggested  their  having  an  old  fashioned 
candy-pulling.  This  they  had  while 
Uncle  Zeek  played  the  banjo.  It  was  late 
that  night,  when  Aunt  Moriah  followed 
them  to  the  door. 

"We  are  coming  again  to-morrow 
night,"  said  Bert. 

"Bless  all  yo'  souls,  I  wants  yo'  to  come 
down  heah  every  night  durin'  de  Christ 
mas  holidays!" 

As  they  wended  their  way  to  the  big 
house,  she  called  them: 

"Chillen,  be  shoo  dat  yo'  has  plenty  of 
kivers  on  yo'  beds  to-night;  hits  pow'ful 
cold!" 

Two  weeks  later  the  big  house  was 
lighted  from  top  to  bottom.  It  was  the 
third  day  of  January  and  the  Morgans' 
home  was  a  veritable  bower  of  all  that 

156 


B'LEEVES  IN  MARRIAGE^    *    * 

the  hot-houses  of  New  Orleans  and  Hous 
ton  could  produce.  All  kinds  of  flowers, 
from  roses  to  orchids  of  the  rarest  kind, 
had  been  sent  to  this  old  fashioned  south 
ern  mansion,  where  they  blended  their 
wonderful  perfumes  and  colors  to  add  to 
the  attractiveness  of  the  bridal  day.  At 
Betty's  side  stood  the  man  of  her  choice 
— Henry  Harmon  Neill. 

It  was  a  typical,  old  fashioned  south 
ern  wedding,  and  the  daughter  was 
bestowed  upon  the  bridegroom  by  her 
father,  "Lije"  Morgan.  The  happy 
bridal  couple  were  surrounded  by  friends 
and  relatives.  "Lije"  Morgan  was  pen 
sive;  no  doubt  he  remembered  the  day 
when  Betty's  mother,  long  since  sleeping 
on  the  hillside,  became  his  bride. 

At  the  rear  was  a  group  of  colored 
friends,  dominated  by  the  well  known 
157 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    *    *    *    *    *    «* 

form  of  Aunt  Moriah.  Her  eyes  were 
filled  with  tears  as  they  constantly 
watched  her  Miss  Betty,  whom  for  eight 
een  years  she  had  lived  to  serve  and  wor 
ship.  The  minister  uttered  the  irrevo 
cable  words,  "I  pronounce  you  husband 
and  wife,"  and  Aunt  Moriah,  weeping  as 
though  her  heart  would  break,  and  finally 
losing  all  restraint,  cried  out: 

"Lawsy,  Miss  Betty,  you'll  allus  be  de 
same  sweet  chile  to  me!" 


158 


SANCTIFICATION 


CHAPTER  X 

SISTAH  SIMMONS'  SANCTIFICATION 

MEANWHILE  with  Aunt  Moriah, 
the  course  of  true-love  had  not 
been  running  smooth.  It  was  generally 
known  that  she  and  Brother  Sinkiller  had 
been  at  outs  lately;  but  that  couldn't  be 
troubling  her  seriously,  for  he  was  ever 
anxious  to  patch  up  the  engagement. 
Something  had  gone  wrong;  but  no  one 
knew  just  what  it  was.  The  talk  of  the 
scandalized  congregation,  concerning 
Aunt  Moriah's  pride  in  the  resurrection, 
had  caused  Brother  Sinkiller  mildly  to 
rebuke  her,  and  it  was  this,  perhaps, 
which  led  to  their  estrangement.  He 
159 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    *    *    *    *    *    ^ 

kept  resolutely  to  his  duty,  however, 
subordinating  his  romance  to  his  pastoral 
duties — and  this  caused  him  to  refer  to 
Aunt  Moriah  in  his  sermon. 

She  had  always  been  a  faithful  Baptist; 
never  once  even  questioning  the  Baptist 
doctrines,  but  she  had  come  to  believe  in 
healing,  and  she  was  determined  to  make 
known  her  belief  before  the  Baptist  con 
gregation.  They  would  either  have  to 
keep  her  with  her  present  faith,  or  take 
her  name  from  their  records  forever. 
Many  of  the  more  sceptical  ones  scoffed 
at  the  idea  of  her  having  resurrected  Sis 
ter  Simpkins  from  the  dead,  and  Aunt 
Moriah  herself  well  knew  that  it  was  a 
fraudulent  resurrection;  but  to  the  world 
it  had  been  a  success,  and  she  was  deter 
mined  to  keep  on  healing  and  resurrect 
ing.  As  to  the  matter  of  conscience,  that 
1 60 


SANCTIFICATION      *    *    *    *    * 

was  the  least  of  her  troubles — it  was 
enough  that  she  was  ridding  the  commu 
nity  of  chronic  complainers ;  and  she  was 
also  assured  that  the  healed  and  resur 
rected  would  never  expose  her  methods- 
such  as  she  had  so  successfully  employed 
in  Sister  Simpkins'  case. 

But  notwithstanding  the  sceptical  scoff 
ers,  her  fame  had  already  spread  far  and 
wide.  Even  the  most  irreligious  believed 
the  spirit  had  cast  a  mantle  of  perfection 
over  her,  and  that  in  addition  to  her  heal 
ing  power  she  was  wholly  sanctified. 

During  the  spring  months  Aunt  Mo- 
riah  was  kept  very  busy  in  comforting  and 
healing  the  sick.  One  case  especially 
had  brought  her  fame — that  of  old  Sister 
Slipperyelm,  who  was  the  most  noted 
chronic  complainer  in  the  community. 
She  healed  this  invalid,  secretly  but  sud- 
161 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    <*    <*    *    *    *    * 

denly,  and  her  fame  as  a  healer  continued 
to  spread.  Just  how  she  did  it  was  her 
secret.  Even  the  whites  were  curious. 
As  summer  came  on,  religious  enthusiasm 
began  to  grow  among  the  congregation; 
and  they  all  looked  forward  with  keen 


anticipation  to  the  revival  services.    Even 
their  flower  gardens  were  neglected. 

The  first  meeting  was  held  on  Saturday 
night.     Crowds  were  coming  from  every 
162 


SANCTIFICATION      *    *    *    *    * 

direction  to  the  Possum  Trot  Zion  Evan 
gelical  Camp  Meeting  Grounds,  the  same 
old  place  where  they  met  each  year  to 
pray  and  sing,  and  listen  to  long  exhorta 
tions.  Creaking  ox-carts  filled  with  noisy 
children,  giggling  lovers,  "critter-backs," 
pasture  mules,  "ge-hawing,"  "git-up- 
Maud" — from  every  road  and  path  came 
all  kinds  of  quaint  vehicles  filled  with 
"speeritual  seekin'  "  humanity  bound  "fo' 
to  git  'ligion." 

Here  was  the  gathering  place  of  fami 
lies,  the  reuniting  of  old  ties,  exchanging 
of  all  gossip — good  and  bad — and  all  that 
makes  the  meeting  of  old  friends  worth 
while.  Some  weeping,  some  laughing, 
they  met  together;  many  not  having  seen 
each  other  for  a  year.  What  a  confusion 
and  noise!  Dogs  were  barking  and 
babies  were  crying!  But  all  at  once  a  si- 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS 


lence  fell  upon  the  audience,  as  Brother 
Sinkiller  arose;  and  after  gazing  over  his 
congregation,  as  though  he  were  viewing 
the  future,  his  trembling  voice  was  heard  : 
"Breddern  and  Sistern:  Thank  Gawd 
I  is  still  spared  to  see  yo'  welcome  faces 
once  mo'  I  I  has  stood  like  an  aged  tree 
in  de  forest  of  de  Lawd,  tremblin'  from 
de  chilly  winds  of  wintah  and  de  scorchin' 
heat  of  summer,  but  bless  Gawd  de  herri- 
canes  of  sin  ain't  blowed  me  away.  Fo' 
many  moons  I  has  seed  de  hand  writin'  of 
sorrer  and  tribulation  getherin'  on  yo' 
brows;  I  has  tarried  wid  yo'  when  you 
was  makin'  mud-pies  and  frog-houses  by 
de  little  graveyard  hillside  up  yonder.  I 
has  been  wid  you  when  you  was  leadin' 
sweethearts  to  de  altar,  and  I  was  wid  you 
when  you  laid  some  of  'em  to  rest  ovah  in 
de  little  buryin'  ground." 
164 


SANCTIFICATION 


Audible  moans  and  groans  came  from 
all  parts  of  the  audience. 

"Like  Joshua  I  has  tried  to  lead  you  to 
de  'Promis'  LanV  You's  heerd  me 
preach  ;  you's  heerd  me  zoort  ;  you's  heerd 
me  pray;  and  you's  heerd  me  moan  till 
the  veil  of  sorrer  was  lifted  from  my  body, 
but  now  you's  gwine  to  hear  me  proph 
esy!" 

"Go  right  on,  Brudder  Sinkiller,  and 
tell  this  congregation  what  de  speerit  have 
sed  to  you,"  moaned  out  Brother  Cato. 

"Tother  night  while  I  was  sleepin'  I 
heerd  a  voice.  Moanful!  Moanful!! 
Moanful!!!" 

"Lawd  hep  us!"  came  from  several 
voices. 

"Leben  times  hit  say,  'Brudder  Sin- 
killer!'  and  leben  times  I  arnsers,  'My 
yeahs  is  open,  Lawd!'  So  I'se  gwine  to 
165 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    *    *    *    *    *    * 

deliver  my  message  in  de  form  of  a  proph 
ecy;  deliver  hit  fo'  de  sun  goes  down  on 
yo'  deef  yeahs!" 

"Have  marcy  on  us!  Have  marcy  on 
us,  good  Lawd!"  came  in  unison  from  the 
bewildered  audience. 

"I  hadn't  mo'n  gotten  through  speakin' 
when  the  speerit  'buked  me  by  axin'  if 
my  eyes  was  open  too.  Den  I  'gins  to 
look  up ! — Right  dar  f o'  my  eyes  was  writ 
in  fiery  doom  dese  words:  'Bewar'  of 
false  prophets  who  am  'mongst  you!' 
And  I  seed  a  vision  of  de  jedgmint  day!" 

Agonizing  groans  came  from  all  sides. 

"Den  I  heerd  a  pow'ful  noise  of  wings 
beatin'  in  de  air,  and  I  seed  winged  horses 
totin'  angels  on  deir  backs.  De  arch 
angel  pinted  out  to  me  a  little  flock  of 
scrubby  lookin'  angels,  'bout  a  dozen  in 
all,  wifout  no  wings,  and  sed,  'Brudder 
1 66 


SANCTIFICATION      *    *    *    *    * 

Sinkiller  dem  is  all  what  we  got  from  yo' 
flock!' 

"I  moaned  so  loud,  like  Rachael 
weepin'  for  her  children,  dat  de  arch 
angel  toted  me  down  into  de  bowels  of  de 
yearth,  whar  I  wouldn't  disturb  de  other 
angels,  and  dar  I  seed  a  great  crowd 
a-moanin',  and  weepin',  and  wailin'.  I 
knowed  'em  every  one;  dey  was  of  my 
flock.  And  'mongst  'em  was  de  devil 
a-ridin'  on  a  big  black  horse  with  red  eyes, 
and  long  sharp  years,  and  fiah  a-pourin' 
out  of  its  nostrils.  Dis  horse  was  pawin' 
'em  down  wid  its  hoofs.  De  fust  ones  to 
git  trampled  down  was  de  sisters  what  had 
gossiped  about  deir  nabors. 

"De  devil  could  tell  'em  in  dis  way: 
every  one  of  de  hairs  on  de  horse's  tail  was 
actually  a  little  red  sarpint,  and  when  de 
horse  passed  by  a  gossipin'  'oman,  one  of 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    *    *    *    *    #    * 

dem  little  sarpints  leaped  into  her  mouth, 
and  et  her  waggly  tongue  clar  out!" 

"Lawd,  pity  us  po'  female  wimmen!" 
came  from  Sister  Jones,  as  the  awe-struck 
congregation  awaited  in  awful  silence 
Brother  Sinkiller's  powerful  description 
of  the  fiery  regions. 

"Den  de  angel  showed  me  our  Possum 
Trot  Zion  Evangelical  church  roll,"  he 
continued;  "hit  was  all  writ  in  blood, 
and  de  faithful  had  red  stars  by  their 
names;  but  only  de  Lawd  and  me  could 
see  whose  names  had  dem  stars  of  glory 
by  'em.  By  de  tother  names  was  writ  de 
sins  what  kept  'em  outin'  heaven." 

Groans  and  sobs  were  heard  from  all 
directions. 

"Well,  I  walked  a  little  further,  and 
I  seed  a  lot  of  fine  clothes ;  and  de  angel 
told  me  dese  was  what  shut  de  gates  of 
1 68 


SANCTIFICATION      *    *    *    *    * 

heaven  to  many  of  my  flock.  Dis  finery 
was  de  devil's  glory,  and  'mongst  other 
things  I  seed  many  grand  hats  wid  fine 
weepin'  willow  plumes.  One  thing  I 
seed  dat  sholy  hurt  my  heart — right  dar 
wid  de  tother  woldly  paraphanalia  was 
an  old  stuffed  red  and  yallow  parrot! 
Jest  think  of  a  stufTed  parrot  keepin'  an 
'oman  outin'  heaven!  Mind  what  I  sez, 
dat  very  bird  b'longs  to  some  backslidin' 
sister  in  dis  heah  congregation.  On  jedg- 
ment  day  dat  parrot  is  gwine  to  scream  fo' 
marcy! 

"Yo'  kaint  hide  yo'  sins  on  dat  great 
day!  De  last  day  is  gwine  to  k-e-t-c-h 
you;  every  chicken  or  shoate  dat  you  has 
stolen  will  be  right  d-a-r  to  testify  'ginst 
you.  All  dat  sweet  and  juicy  meat  will 
be  piled  'ginst  de  gates  of  heaven  to  keep 
you  out;  and  nothin'  but  a  Sampson  or  a 
169 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    a 


Goliah  can  move  it.  Oh,  thar'll  be 
moanin',  moanin',  moan  in'  1  And  that 
day  am  almost  heah!" 

A  dead  silence  reigned  throughout  the 
audience;  even  the  ticking  of  the  Water- 
burys  could  be  distinctly  heard,  as  he  ut 
tered  the  closing  words  in  a  husky  whis 
per. 

"Den  I  heerd  de  thunders  roar,  and  I 
seed  de  lightenin'  flashing  and  a  great 
crowd  of  sinners  was  marchin'  towards 
me;  and  a-leadin'  dis  crowd  of  sinners, 
who  does  you  think  I  seed?  Oh,  Lawd 
have  marcy!  Hit  was  Sister  Simmons! 
After  all  dese  years  of  sarvin'  de  good 
Master,  she  had  done  growed  tired  of 
well  doin'  and  let  de  devil  turn  her  haid 
wid  a  few  silk  skirts,  a  stuffed  parrot,  and 
a  ride  on  de  railroad  cars. 

"Yessah,  in  her  han'  was  a  fan  wid  lit- 
170 


SANCTIFICATION      *    J    *    J    * 

tie  danglin'  things  on  hit,  and  on  dem 
dingly  dangles  was  writ  in  blood,  'False 
Prophet!  False  Healer!'  And  dat  old 
parrot  was  screamin',  'Los'!  LosM  Los'!' 
Oh,  S-i-s-t-e-r  S-i-m-m-o-n-s,  you  kaint 
f-o-o-1  Marse  Peter  on  dat  day.  Ef  you 
ever  squeeze  through  dem  golden  gates 
yo's  got  to  leave  some  of  yo'  finery  be 
hind!" 

Aunt  Moriah  groaned  and  wept  aloud 
as  her  friends  whispered  words  of  comfort. 

"Den  I  seed  old  Brother  Isrul 
a-snortin',  and  a-blowin',  and  a-totin'  dat 
basket  of  fat  pullets  what  he  done  stole 
from  Miss  Sims,  and  so  skandously  lied 
about." 

He  waited  for  laughter  to  subside. 

"Cose  he  was  still  claimin'  dat  he 
hadn't  stole  'em,"  he  resumed,  seriously, 
"but  hit  'twarnt  no  use  kase  all  de  angels 
171 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS 


was  dar  to  testify  'ginst  him.  Lawdy, 
how  dem  chickens  was  squallin'  and 
cacklin'!  And  everybody  was  laffin'  at 


dat  po'  old 
lyin',  hypocritical 
chicken  thief.  Dem 
chickens  will  sholy  cackle  'ginst  you  on 
jedgment  day,  Brudder  Isrul!  Fo'  hens 
will  cackle!" 

Brother  Isrul   fell   on  his  knees   and 
cried  aloud  for  mercy. 
172 


SANCTIFICATION 


"Next  I  seed  Sis  Viney  Green  all 
dressed  up  in  finery,  and  a-drivin'  a  fine 
horse.  No,  hit  was  a  mule,  and  looked 
like  Napoleon.  She  was  jest  paradin' 
herself  befo'  all  dem  wimmen  to  make 
'em  jealous,  and  tryin'  to  kotch  all  de 
men.  Oh,  Sis  Viney,  ain't  you  never 
gwine  to  tire  of  sarvin'  de  devil?" 

"I'se  a-gwine  to  sarve  him  long  as  I 
kin!"  shouted  Viney  in  derisive  tones,  as 
some  of  the  sinners  shook  with  laughter. 

"Hep  her,  Lawd,  fo'  tis  everlastingly 
too  late!"  came  from  the  amen  corner. 
Brother  Sinkiller  went  right  on. 

"Den  de  archangel  tuck  me  by  de  hand 
and  sed,  'Come  on,  Brudder  Sinkiller,  I 
don't  want  you  to  see  all  dis  crowd  what 
am  comin';  hit  mout  discourage  you!'  I 
jest  kinder  looked  a  leetle  teenchy  bit  wid 
de  corner  of  my  lef  eye.  Bless  my  soul 
173 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    *    *    a    *    *    * 

if  dar  wasn't  everyone  of  my  deacons! 
And  pretty  nigh  all  de  female  constitu 
ency  of  dis  heah  conflagration.  Lawd, 
hep  all  dese  sinners  to  fess  up  fo'  dis 
meetin'  is  over! 

"Don't  you  all  want  to  come  back  to  de 
fold  befo'  hit  is  too  late?  Don't  you  want 
to  quit  sarvin'  de  devil?  Now,  while  we 
sings  dis  old  hymn,  if  dar's  anyone  what's 
tired  of  wanderin'  in  de  cold  mountains 
of  sin,  and  dat  still  hears  de  shepherd's 
voice  a-callin'  him — let  'em  rise  and  come 
fo'ward." 

For  miles  through  the  forest  rang  out 
in  solemn  tones,  "Wandering  Away  From 
Jesus."  One  after  another  of  the  congre 
gation  shouted  aloud  for  mercy.  The 
Sand  Hill  congregation  were  quite  as 
much  aroused  as  the  Zion  Evangelical; 
never  before  had  they  felt  the  revival 

174 


SANCTIFICATION      #    *    *    *    * 

spirit  so  strongly.  When  the  hymn  was 
finished,  Aunt  Moriah  arose,  and  trem 
bling  as  though  with  ague,  walked  to  the 
front  and  faced  the  awe-stricken  audience. 
Her  worldly  pride  had  vanished,  not  a 
vestige  remained.  She  had  no  thought  of 
anything  except  repentance  and  a  full 
confession  of  her  guilt.  Her  great  hid 
den  sins  had  grown  momentarily  more  in 
sufferable.  Turning  so  that  she  could 
both  face  the  audience  and  Brother  Sin- 
killer,  she  began : 

"Brudders  and  sisters,  and  all  my  sin- 
nah  frens — de  speerit  have  moved  me  to 
confess  to  you  all  fo'  tis  too  late!" 

She  paused.  There  was  a  nervous  si 
lence.  Brother  Sinkiller  stood  impas 
sive,  looking  into  her  face,  but  apparently 
not  attentive  to  what  she  had  said.  It  was 
as  if  his  eyes  had  mounted  guard  over 
175 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS 


her,  while  his  mind  concerned  itself  with 
other  matters  —  perhaps  his  own  sins! 
Presently  he  drew  a  long  wheezy  breath, 
shuddered,  as  one  awakened  from  a 
dreadful  dream,  and  exclaimed: 

"May    de     Lawd    hep    you, 
Sister    Simmons,    to 
'spress  yo'self  !" 

Moaning  and  sob 
bing  could 
be  heard 
throughout 
the  vast  con 
gregation,  interspersed  with  calls  of 
"May  de  Lawd  hep  her!"  "May  de 
Lawd  give  her  grace!"  Even  the  babies 
had  been  awakened  by  the  commotion. 

"Yas,  dat  archangel  done  pinted  out  de 
truff  to  Brudder  Sinkiller.  I  is  de  false 
prophet  what  he  done  had  a  vision  of! 

176 


SANCTIFICATION 


I  is  de  backslider  what  done  jined  hands 
wid  de  devil,  and  let  him  coax  me  into 
de  ornery  ways  of  de  world!  Hit  was 
trabellin'  on  dat  railroad  train  to  New 
Orleans  what  done  turnt  my  haid.  Yes- 
sah,  we  wimmen  what  b'longs  to  de 
kitchen  and  wash-tub  had  better  be  mouty 
careful  how  we  rides  on  dem  railroad 
cars,  even  a  leetle  trip  to  Phelps  done 
turned  Miss  Agnes'  haid,  and  made  her 
despise  commonplace  things!  But  de 
devil  is  done  cheated  me  long  enough,  and 
I  ain't  gwine  to  let  him  cheat  me  outin' 
heaven!" 

"Bless  Gawd  fo'  dat!"  shouted  Brother 
Cato,  as  several  shrieks  and  groans  went 
up  from  the  audience. 

"No  suh,  I  ain't  gwine  to  wander  in  sin 
no  mo'  ;  but  I'se  gwine  to  stay  in  de  shel 
tered  fold,  so  hep  me  Gawd!" 
177 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS 


There  was  another  pause.  The  old 
woman  stood  motionless  with  quivering 
lips.  Then,  like  a  flash  of  lightning, 
came  the  last  confession. 

"I  didn't  resurrect  Sister  Simpkins  by 
faith!  No  de  angels  bar  me  witness,  hit 
was  by  orneryness,  and  dis  heah  razor!" 
And  she  drew  an  immense  razor  from  her 
stocking  and  dramatically  waved  it  before 
the  audience. 

"Hit  was  dis  way,"  she  continued. 
"Sister  Simpkins,  as  you  all  know,  was  de 
nocountest  'oman  in  Pruneville;  and  she 
was  allus  complainin'  'bout  her  ailments. 
She  was  jest  natchelly  sot  on  havin'  every 
new  one  she  heard  of.  Ef  a  misery  warn't 
in  her  side,  hit  was  in  her  haid;  and  ef 
hit  warn't  in  her  haid,  hit  was  sholy  in 
her  feet.  She  was  gruntin'  and  mopin' 
from  mornin'  till  night,  lucidatin'  on  her 


SANCTIFICATION      *    *    *    *    * 

suffrins  and  countin'  de  medicine  bottles 
what  she  was  savin'  to  make  her  grave 
monumint.  Every  few  weeks  she'd  go 
into  fits  and  den  into  convulsions,  and 
from  convulsions  back  into  fits,  and  versa 
visa  till  she'd  die.  Den  dey  would  send 
fo'  me  to  lay  her  out.  I  done  growed 
tired  of  layin'  out  de  live  ones;  when  I 
lays  out  copses,  I  lays  out  de  daid  ones! 
Well,  hit  was  de  f oth  time  I  had  been  sont 
fo'  to  lay  her  out,  when  somethin'  done 
told  me  to  resurrect  her.  And  dis  is  what 
I  resurrected  her  wid!" 

Again  she  waved  the  razor  before  the 
audience.  Some  laughed  and  others 
wept. 

"How  'bout  po'  old  Slipperyelm's 
healin'?"  came  from  the  rear  of  the  con 
gregation. 

"Well,"  responded  Aunt  Moriah,  "her 
179 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS 


case  was  pow'fully  like  Sister  Simpkins' 
'cept  she  warn't  daid.  I  seed  Sister  Slip- 
peryelm  was  gittin'  porer  and  porer,  till 
you  could  actually  heah  her  bones  rattle 
as  she  perambulated!  She'd  done  lost 
her  narve  and  was  takin'  pills  from 
mornin'  till  night.  So,  I  sot  my  haid  on 
healin'  her.  I  borrowed  de  invalid's 
chair  from  Mr.  Morgan  and  put  her  in 
hit,  and  rolled  her  down  to  de  old  wash- 
place  whar  no  one  could  heah  us.  When 
we  got  dar,  I  sez,  sez  I  : 

"  'Sister  Slipperyelm,  you  is  lookin' 
pow'  fully  bad  dis  morninM  Ain't  you 
feelin'  no  better?' 

"  'No'm,'  sez  she,  'I  still  has  dat  same 
misery  in  my  knee  jints  ;  and  a  pain  in  my 
liver,  my  kidneys  is  broke  loose  agin  and 
is  jest  natchelly  floatin'  away  through  my 
stomach.  I  b'leeves  I  is  got  gall  stones 
1  80 


SANCTIFICATION      #    *    *    *    * 

jest  like  old  lady  Ramsey  died  of.  Please 
take  me  home  and  give  me  some  mo'  pe- 
runa,  and  put  a  mustard  plaster  on  my 
kidneys.  Po'  me!  Po'  me!' 

"  'But  don't  you  think  dis  heah  fresh 
air  and  sunshine  will  make  you  feel  bet 
ter?' 

"  'Lawdy,  no!'  she  sez,  as  she  hove 
a  sigh,  and  commenced  talkin'  'bout 
throwin'  anudder  fit.  'I'm  goin'  to  die!' 

"  'Yo's  shoo  you  is,  Sister  Slippery- 
elm?'  sez  I. 

"  'Quite  shoo,'  she  moaned. 

"Then  she  commenced  lucidatin'  on  her 
ailments  again.  I  let  her  go  on  fo'  a 
while,  then  I  sez,  'Maybe  you  is  right,  for 
you  sholy  looks  like  death  was  nigh  on  yo' 
tracks.  I  kin  already  see  de  picture  of 
de  graveyard  on  yo'  thin  face.  You  is 
jest  dyin'  slowly,  only  a  few  mo'  days  and 
181 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS     *    *    *    *    *    * 

death'll  claim  you!  I've  knowed  hit  ten 
years,  but  I  did'nt  have  de  narve  to  tell 
you.  How  I  does  hate  to  say  what  I  must 
say,  but  de  sisters  of  de  Leben  Star  Auxil 
iary  Society  done  had  a  meetin'  and 
pinted  me  as  a  committee  of  one  to  end 
yo'  misery  in  dis  heah  vale  of  sorrow. 
Yas,  we  done  prayed  over  hit  and  decided 
that  you  shouldn't  suffer  no  mo'.  Hits 
pow'fully  onpleasant  for  me  to  have  to  cut 
yo'  haid  off  wid  dis  old  axe,  but  I  must  do 
my  duty,  beloved  sister! 

"  'Cose  I  knows  in  de  weakness  of  yo' 
flesh  you'll  try  to  argify  'ginst  me  doin' 
my  duty,  but  hit  must  be  done,  and  de 
sooner  de  better.'  Den  I  picked  up  de 
axe;  bless  my  soul,  dat  nigger  was  white 
as  a  ghos'.  De  perspiration  was  pourin' 
offen  her  like  de  rain ;  she  had  wilted  like 
a  frost  bitten  tater  vine.  She  sez,  kinder 
182 


"Yo'    SHOLY   AIN'T   GWINE  TO   KILL   ME?' 


SANCTIFICATION      *    *    *    *    * 

sympathetic  like,  as  de  tears  rolled  down 
her  cheeks : 

"  'You  s'holy  ain't  gwine  to  kill  me,  is 
you,  Sister  Simmons?' 

"  Tas,  my  dear  sister,  but  don't  speak 
dat  way.  Gawd  knows  you  has  suffered 
enough,  and  you  kaint  last  much  longer. 
Hit's  my  duty. 

"''You  has  allus  'peared,  Sister  Slip- 
peryelm,  to  be  just  and  good  in  yo'  jedg- 
ment,  but  now  I  thinks  you  is  a  little  on- 
considerate.  You  has  been  an  invalid  so 
long  dat  you  has  kinder  lost  yo'  jedgment, 
so  de  Sisters  of  de  Leben  Stars  and  de  Sis 
ters  of  Solomon,  of  which  you  was  one  of 
de  propoganders,  is  tryin'  to  dispose  of 
yo'  miseries  wid  sisterly  love.  It  am 
their  wishes  dat  I  dispose  of  you,  and  thus 
rid  you  of  yo'  sufTrins. 

"  'Jest  think  of  yo'  ailments ;  that  pain  in 
183 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS 


yo'  liver  means  slow  death!    Yes,  my  dear 
sister,  I  cannot  see  you  suffer  any  more!' 

"  'Huh,  my  liver  is  feelin'  lots  better 
now,'  sez  she. 

"  'But,'  sez  I,  'yo'  husband  is  daid,  and 
you  ain't  got  nobody  to  live  fo'  ;  you  is  in 
everybody's  way!' 

"  'Yessum,'  sez  she,  'but  I'm  feelin'  so 
much  happier  now  that  my  friends  will 
all  be  glad  to  see  me.' 

"  Well,'  sez  I,  as  I  picked  up  the  axe, 
Char's  them  kidney  ailments!  They'll 
float  away  in  this  swampy  land!' 

"  'Oh,  I'm  a-gittin'  so  I  like  this  region 
fine.  That  water  from  Tilley's  Lake  has 
most  cured  my  kidneys.' 

"  'But  them  jints  of  yourn  is  all  swelled 
up  wid  screwmatism  !' 

"  'Lawsy,  Sister  Simmons,  my  jints  is 
much  better!' 

184 


SANCTIFICATION     *    *    *    *    * 

"  'Sis  Slipperyelm,  you  has  been  savin' 
dem  snuff  bottles  and  medicine  bottles 
long  enough  to  fix  up  a  fine  grave  monu- 
mint.  And  fo'  leben  years  you  has  been 
prayin'  fo'  dem  spotless  robes,  and  prayin' 
fo'  de  angels  to  come  arter  you.' 

"Den  she  tuck  my  hand  kinder  fondly 
like,  and  sed,  'I  ain't  ready  yet.  De 
speerit  don't  seem  to  speak  to  me 
now.' 

"Well,  we  sputed  and  argified ;  finally, 
I  up  and  sed,  kinder  devilish  like:  'Is  yo' 
liver  feelin'  all  right?' 

"  'Lawsy,  yes  honey,  hit  never  felt  bet 
ter.' 

"  'How  about  yo'  screwmatism?'  sez  I. 

"  'Bless  yo'  soul,  all  my  jints  is  nimble 
as  a  monkey's.  De  pain  is  all  gone.' 

"  'But  what  about  dem  golden  slippers 
you  has  been  wantin'  to  wear  so  long?' 

185 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS     *    at    *    *    *    * 


me.' 


"  'Huh,  plain  shoes  is  good  enough  for 

"  'I  spose  you'se  sanctified  and  ready 
to  go!' 

"  'Go  whar?'  sez  she.  'To  de  devil  is 
whar  I'd  go!  I  ain't  never  had  one  drap 
of  'ligion;  I  is  de  biggest  old  hypocrit  in 
de  Zion  Church,  and  I  wants  a  chance  to 
live  and  'pent  for  my  sins.' 

"  'Den,'  sez  I,  'bein'  as  dese  am  yo'  feel- 
ins,  and  dat  yo'  health  am  hincefoth  per- 
fict,  and  you  promise  never  to  feel  bad 
agin',  or  even  mention  yo'  ailments — git 
outin'  dis  invalid's  chair  and  wash  dat  tub 
of  clothes,  fo'  I  lambastes  you  wid  a  sim- 
mon  sprout!'  She  moved!  Dat's  how  I 
healed  her.  But  never  agin'  for  me;  if 
de  good  Lawd  fo'gives  my  sinnin'  soul, 
and  you  brudders  and  sisters  don't  church 
me,  I'se  gwine  to  stay  right  in  de  narrow 
186 


SANCTIFICATION      *    *    *    #    # 

path,  jest  tendin'  to  Sister  Simmons'  own 
business.  For  I'se  pow'ful  busy  dese 
days!" 

Evidently  she  was,  for  it  was  generally 
understood  that  she  and  Brother  Sinkiller 
were  to  be  married  at  the  end  of  the  re 
vival  services,  that  is,  if  they  patched  up 
their  disagreement,  and  to-night  they  de 
parted  down  the  trail  swinging  hands  like 
two  school  children. 


187 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS     *    «*    *    *    * 


CHAPTER  XI 

HOW  VINEY  CUM  THROUGH 

TT  was  the  last  night  of  the  revival. 
-*•  Yet,  in  spite  of  the  happiness  that 
awaited  him,  Brother  Sinkiller's  heart 
was  troubled — one  of  his  sheep  was  still 
out  in  the  cold — Sis  Viney.  All  day  long 
as  Brother  Sinkiller  ploughed  on  the  lit 
tle  hillside  he  had  prayed  that  the  good 
Lord  would  touch  Viney's  hardened 
heart,  and  thus  leave  an  unclouded  sky  for 
his  wedding  day. 

An  hour  later,  he  and  his  old  gray  mare 
mule,  Nancy,  had  eaten  their  supper,  and 
Brother  Sinkiller  had  mounted  her  back, 
and  started  down  the  road  for  church. 


HOW  VINEY  CUM  THROUGH 


The  aged  preacher  talked  to  himself. 
Nancy  seemed  to  understand  and  listened 
with  respect.  Between  them  was  a  sym 
pathetic  understanding.  She  had  carried 
him  to  weddings,  baptisings,  and  funerals, 
and  they  had 
"  s  o  r  t  e  r 
grown  up  to 
gether 
now  there 


would  not  be  many  more  days  of  hard 
work! 

"Git  up  thar,  Nancy!"  said  Brother 

Sinkiller.     "  'Pears  like  yeVe  kinder  lost 

yo'  kalkalatin'  'bout  the  time  hit  takes  you 

to   git   to   church!     Haint   ye,   Nancy? 

189 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS     «*    *    *    *    *    * 

Howbesomever  I  don't  want  yer  to  worry 
my  peace  of  mind,  Nancy,  fer  I  want  to 
feel  a  thrill  of  grace  and  let  my  light 
keep  er-shinin'  to-night.  What  I'm  er- 
prayin'  fer  is  Sis  Viney's  return  to  grace. 
Lawd,  hep  sich  a  po'  worrim  as  I  be!" 

Unexpectedly,  Nancy  gave  a  snort  and 
shied  to  one  side  of  the  road.  Brother 
Sinkiller  almost  tumbled  to  the  ground. 
Then  he  looked  all  about,  but  could  see 
nothing  that  might  have  frightened 
Nancy.  Yet  he  felt  the  fullest  confi 
dence  in  her  fright. 

"So  yo'  seed  a  vision,  Nancy  I  Well,  I 
had  prayed  myse'f  to  sleep,  and  was  jest 
leavin'  hit  to  yo'  to  git  us  to  chuch  in  time. 
Lawd,  fergive  me  fo'  sleepin'  while  Sis 
Viney's  soul  is  hangin'  over  perdition  on 
a  spider's  web;  hep  her  to  cum  through 
dis  very  night! 

190 


HOW  VINEY  CUM  THROUGH 

"De  scripture  don't  say  nothin'  'bout 
she-mules  seein'  visions,  Nancy,  but  I 
reckon  ye  beeant  sich  a  dumb  fool  that  yo' 
wouldn't  see  a  shoo  nuff  meerickle  speerit! 
And  de  scripture  don't  say  nothin'  agin 
hit;  but  wharf o'  war  yo'  so  skeert?  Yo' 
allus  peered  to  be  one  of  these  heah 
mode'n  edikated  mules!" 

A  few  paces  farther  Nancy  shied  again 
and  slackened  her  zigzag  trot  into  a  nerv 
ous  walk.  Brother  Sinkiller  was  becom 
ing  frightened,  and  he  turned  his  eyes 
toward  the  heavens  in  prayer. 

There  was  a  moment  of  perfect  still 
ness.  Even  the  whip-poor-wills  in  the 
forest  were  hushed;  not  even  so  much  as 
the  chirp  of  a  cricket  could  be  heard,  nor 
the  rattling  of  a  leaf  or  twig.  As  they 
reached  the  old  cross  roads,  Nancy 
again  shied  so  quickly  that  this  time 
191 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS 


Brother  Sinkiller  actually  tumbled  to  the 
ground. 

"Well,  fo'  the  Lawd,  Nancy,  what  air 
the  mattah  wid  yo'?  Whoa  thar  now! 
Whoa  thar  I  say!"  And  he  jerked  vig 
orously  at  the  reins,  and  climbed  back 
into  the  saddle. 

"I  guess  yo'  seed  the  Debbil!  Eh? 
He  allus  'pears  on  the  scene  when  ye  be 
fittin'  sin.  Yo'  acts  as  skittish  as  one  of 
dem  blame  Sand  Hill  mules!" 

Nancy  trotted  on  a  little  faster,  encour 
aged  by  Brother  Sinkiller's  hickory 
switch  and  spurs.  They  arrived  at  the 
meeting  grounds  in  ample  time,  and  fif 
teen  minutes  later  Brother  Sinkiller  was 
telling  his  audience  of  Nancy's  three 
visions. 

"It  was  like  this,"  he  was  saying,  as  he 
described  Nancy's  visions  with  much 
192 


HOW  VINEY  CUM  THROUGH 

enthusiasm,  and  ended  by  remarking: 
"Po'  Nancy!  She's  a  sober  minded, 
konsiderate  beast;  all  she  needs  is  a  leetle 
salvation.  I  was  jest  spressin'  myse'f  to 
night  as  I  rid  er-long — that  she  and  Sis 
Viney  was  onsaved.  But  I  haint  er- 
fearin',  nor  doubtin',  but  I'm  clingin'  to 
the  promis'." 

"Amen!"  came  from  half  a  hundred 
voices,  as  some  one  raised  a  soul  stirring 
hymn. 

When  the  hymn  was  finished  Viney  en 
tered  the  tent,  and  stood  in  the  rear. 
Curious  eyes  were  turned  toward  her,  and 
many  of  the  saints  were  praying  that  she 
be  moved  to  repentance.  Aunt  Moriah 
whispered  to  Brother  Cato,  "Viney  will 
sholy  cum  through  yit,  fo'  she's  wearin'  a 
pow'ful  speeritual  look  on  her  face!" 
But  Brother  Cato  only  breathed  a  prayer 

193 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS     «*    <*    #    *    *    <* 

for  her  return.     At  this  moment  Brother 
Sinkiller  called  out  from  the  pulpit: 

"Brudder  Isiah,  lead  us  in  praar!" 

With  one  accord  the  entire  congrega 
tion  got  upon  its  knees,  and  with  upturned 
face  the  aged  man  prayed: 

"O  Lawd,  we  air  heah  fo'  a  puppus! 
Night  after  night  we  have  rastled  wid 
sin  and  de  Debil.  Night  after  night,  we 
have  axed  yo'  to  soften  the  hearts  of  all 
the  backsliders  that  they  might  return." 

"Yes,  Lawd!  dat  am  de  miff!"  joined 
in  the  stentorian  voice  of  Brother  Cato 
from  the  rear  of  the  audience. 

"Amen!  Amen!"  came  from  a  multi 
tude  of  voices,  as  Sister  Dinah  shouted, 
"Glory!  Glory!  Glory  to  Gawd!  I 
feel  hit  movin'  me!"  And  she  began 
tearing  her  clothes  and  wildly  waving  her 
hands  in  the  air. 

194 


HOW  VINEY  CUM  THROUGH 

"Sis  Moriah,"  said  Brother  Sinkiller, 
"will  yo'  please  cum  fo'ward  and  hold  dis 
saint  to  see  dat  she  do  herse'f  no  ha'm?" 

"Yas,  we's  a-clingin'  to  de  promis'l 
Let  yo'  footsteps  be  heerd  in  dis  audience, 
Lawd!  Soften  Sis  Viney's  heart,  fo'  tis 
everlastinly  too  late,  so  she  kin  cum  wid 
us  to  dat  Promis'  LanM  Cum  wid  us 
Lawd!" 

"Oom-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m- 
m-m!  Amen!  Amen!" 

Some  were  weeping,  others  screaming 
as  they  joined  in  the  rhythm,  swaying 
their  bodies  back  and  forth.  Aunt  Han 
nah's  voice  could  be  heard  above  all  the 
rest.  Some  one  raised  the  hymn : 

"Oh  who  will  cum  and  go  wid  me, 
I  am  boun'  fo'  de  Promis'  Lan'-e-an, 
I  am  bound  fo'  de  Promis'  Lan'-e-anM 
Gird  up  yo'  loins  and  go  wid  me, 
195 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    *    *    *    *    *    * 

Fer  I'm  bound  fer  de  Promis'  Lan'-e-an', 
I'm  bound  fer  de  Promis'  Lan'." 

"Yas,"  concluded  Brother  Sinkiller, 
"we  don't  want  to  leave  none  of  our  sheep 
heah  below,  but  take  'em  all  to  dat  far 
Canaan  Ian'."  Many  "amens"  came 
from  the  audience. 

"Sistah  Simmons,"  said  the  preacher, 
"won't  yo'  lead  us  in  a  reg'lar  meerickle 
fetchin'  praar?"  The  congregation 
again  dropped  to  its  knees,  as  Aunt  Mo- 
riah's  voice  was  heard : 

"O  Lawd,  cum  down  wid  us  to-night, 
and  turn  Sis  Viney's  woldly  feet  back  into 
de  narrow  paff!" 

"Bless  Gawd  1    Amen !  Amen !  Amen !" 

"Hep  her  Lo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-rd !    Take 

her  by  de  hand  and  say,  'Cum  on,  Viney! 

Quit  yo'  sinnin',  quit  yo'  sorrerin',  quit  yo' 

moanin',  quit  yo'  weepin' — and  git  ready 

196 


"GLORY!      GLORY!     I'VE   GOT   IT   AT   LAS'!" 


HOW  VINEY  CUM  THROUGH 

fo'  dat  lonesome  graveyard  up  yonder  on 
de  hillside!'  Uh-huh,  dat  lonesome 
graveyard!" 

"Oom-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m- 
m-m-m!  Amen!  Amen!" 

Viney  was  on  her  knees,  mourning  and 
weeping,  as  she  swayed  her  body  back 
ward  and  forward  in  rhythm.  Suddenly 
she  stopped,  and  sprang  on  one  of  the 
benches  shouting: 

"Glory!  Glory!  I've  got  it  at  las'!" 
She  stepped  from  bench  to  bench,  scream 
ing  with  joy.  All  the  congregation  were 
excitedly  shaking  hands  with  her,  as  fast 
as  they  could  get  the  opportunity.  Some 
one  again  raised  the  hymn:  "Bound  fer 
the  Promis'  Lan'."  Viney  swooned  to  the 
floor;  several  men  picked  her  up  and  car 
ried  her  out  into  the  open  where  she  might 
get  fresh  air. 

197 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    *    #    <*    *    *    * 

"Bless  Gawd!  She's  got  hit  now!" 
shouted  Brother  Zack. 

At  this  moment,  Nancy,  the  old  gray 
mare  mule,  appeared  just  at  the  entrance 
to  the  arbor.  "I  am  bound  fer  the 
Promis'  Lan'  "  was  still  ringing  through 
the  excited  congregation.  Viney  sud 
denly  sprang  to  her  feet,  and  then  into 
the  saddle,  and  before  any  one  could  stop 
her,  down  the  road  she  went  on  Nancy's 
back,  wildly  shouting,  and  gesticulating, 
"I  am  bound  fer  the  Promis'  Lan'-e-an', 
I  am  bound  fer  the  Promis'  Lan'." 

The  congregation  gradually  broke  up. 
A  trail  of  dust  was  still  flying  through  the 
air,  and  in  the  distance  they  could  hear 
Sister  Viney's  voice  ringing  through  the 
forest,  "Bound  fer  the  Promis'  Lan' " 
until  it  could  be  heard  no  more. 

The  little  groups  of  saints  gradually 
198 


HOW  VINEY  CUM  THROUGH 

scattered  down  the  various  trails  that  led 
to  their  humble  cabins. 

Brother  Sinkiller's  flock  had  all  been 
led  into  the  fold:  the  horizon  was  clear, 
at  last,  for  him  and  Aunt  Moriah,  as  they 
walked  slowly  home  together,  silently 
contemplating  the  future. 


199 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    * 


CHAPTER  XII 

DONE  GONE  AND  FO'CED  ME! 

TEN  days  later  the  country  seemed  in 
gala    costume.     Brilliant    flowers, 
delightfully    fragrant,    rose    from    their 

trembling  stalks. 
The  wind,  sweet 
scented  from 

blowing  over 

them,  passed  on 
to  sing  its  love 
song  through  the 
distant  tree  tops, 
and  answering 
breezes  whispered  of  peace  and  happi 
ness  to  come. 

200 


DONE  GONE  AND  FORCED  ME! 

Back  of  the  Morgan  home  the  stretch 
of  brilliant  sunlight  was  dotted  here  and 
there  by  dark  magnolia  trees;  and  then 
there  were  the  crepe  myrtle  bushes,  with 
their  dainty  pink-fringed  flowers,  and  the 
cabin  was  newly  whitewashed,  suggestive 
of  the  joyous  feast  that  was  to  take  place 
within  its  walls,  after  the  wedding. 

That  night  the  enclosure  surrounding 
the  cabin  was  lighted  with  Japanese  lan 
terns,  which  floated  jewel-like,  in  the 
clear,  warm,  southern  sky.  It  seemed 
that  roses  never  bloomed  so  red  as  those 
on  the  great  vine  that  climbed  above  the 
door. 

Darkies  waiting  for  proceedings  to  be 
gin  stood  about  "gossiping  and  cracking 
jokes.  Some  boasted  of  having  been 
present  at  each  one  of  Aunt  Moriah's  pre 
vious  matrimonial  adventures,  and  ended 
201 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS 


by  saying  that  those  who  have  had  their 
day  should  let  the  younger  generation 
have  a  chance. 

Just  as  the  moon  rose  slowly  behind 
the  low,  distant  hills,  some  one  broke  into 
song;  a  banjo  began  to  tinkle.  Slowly 
the  song  was  taken  up  by  others,  till  all 
were  singing.  They  swayed  their  bodies, 
now  slow,  now  fast,  as  the  song  grew  sad 
or  joyous.  Then  as  they  had  started,  one 
by  one  they  fell  silent;  and  Brother 
Isaiah,  squinting  his  eye  along  the  tail  of 
a  small  whip,  ejected  a  half  pint  of  to 
bacco  juice  into  space,  and  remarked, 
half  aloud  : 

"Brudder  Sinkiller  shoo  did  have  to  do 
some  cotin'  to  win  his  bride.  But  preach 
ers  allus  do  git  de  best  of  evything!" 

"He  wouldn't  er-got  her  if  he  hadn't 
been  so  pow'fully  obstreperous  in  his 
202 


DONE  GONE  AND  FO'CED  ME! 

wooing!"  replied  Yeast-Powder  Sal,  as 
the  gossip  continued. 

The  Sandhill  minister  was  to  perform 
the  ceremony.  The  white  guests  entered 
the  cabin  and  sat  in  state  on  long  benches 
that  lined  the  whitewashed  walls.  The 
ceiling  had  been  newly  papered,  and  even 
the  spinning  wheel  had  been  scrubbed  to 
a  point  of  whiteness.  Above  the  mantel 
hung  several  old-fashioned  tin-types  of 
the  children  of  the  Morgan  family.  A 
close  observer  might  have  recognized  the 
baby  faces  of  Betty,  Bert,  and  Henry 
Neill,  who  were  there  to  help  the  nuptial 
celebrations  of  their  much-beloved  old 
"black-mammy." 

Behind  a  bower  of  roses  the  large  room 
fell  away  into  darkness,  mysterious  re 
cesses,  where,  in  one  corner,  could  be  dis 
cerned  an  old  banjo,  carefully  restrung 
203 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    *    *    *    *    *    * 

and  tuned  for  this  auspicious  occasion. 

"Brudder  Sinkiller  ain't  nothin'  but  a 
silk  hat,  a  white  shirt  and  legs,  and  a  haid 
what's  done  gone  to  seed  like  a  cabbage!" 
exclaimed  some  one,  to  the  uproarious 
amusement  of  the  whole  dusky  crowd. 

"Huh  I"  came  the  voice  of  Viney  Green 
with  a  giggle.  "Has  any  of  yo'  all  done 
beared  if  he's  told  Sister  Simmons  about 
dem  nightmares  of  his'n?" 

"Lawsy,  honey,  dem  warn't  nothin'  but 
lonesome  fits;  any  man's  liable  to  have 
'em  till  he  marries,"  replied  Sister  Jonas, 
and  added,  "He  sholy  am  a  fine  feathered 
he-bird!  And  jest  to  think  he's  a 
preacher!" 

At  this  moment  a  grumbling  noise  was 

heard  at  the  back  gate,  and  lo  and  behold ! 

— there  stood  poor  old  Sister  Elephanto- 

pus,  grunting  and  puffing  like  a  steam  en- 

204 


DONE  GONE  AND  FORCED  ME! 

gine.  "Come  right  on  through,  Sister," 
said  one  of  the  sages.  "That  thar  gate 
mayn't  be  as  wide  as  the  gates  of  heaven, 
but  it  shoo  am  biggern  our  church  doo' !" 

Sister  Elephantopus  entered  the  yard, 
came  near  the  door,  then  leaned  forward, 
where  she  could  see  the  bride  and  groom 
in  the  cabin,  and  her  happiness  was  com 
plete. 

They  were  sitting  under  the  bower. 
Aunt  Moriah  wore  a  single  wreath  of 
small  white  roses  in  her  hair,  and  her 
long,  flowing  white  bridal  veil  had  been 
carefully  made  and  arranged  by  Betty. 
Her  dress  was  made  of  white  satin,  with 
an  overdress  of  thin  white  netting.  Long 
white  gloves,  and  a  pair  of  white  slippers, 
completed  her  costume.  She  carried  a 
large  bunch  of  orange  blossoms. 

The  atmosphere  was  cool,  clear,  and 
205 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    «* 


tranquil.  There  was  a  spirit  of  harmony 
throughout  the  vast  gathering;  it  seemed 
a  moment  of  transition  ;  the  past  was  fad 
ing,  the  future  was  still  dim.  The  bride 
seemed  a  little  sad,  and  perhaps  a  little 
careworn  —  for  to  her  there  was  in  this 
ceremony  all  the  religious  sanctity  of  a 
divine  judgment  —  but  the  lines  of  her  old 
face  could  not  hide  its  kindliness  and 
geniality. 

Betty  and  Bert  scanned  her  with  some 
anxiety;  she  would  always  be  their  dearest 
family  treasure. 

Miss  Agnes  and  Lolita  were  the  two 
maids  of  honor.  One  may  be  sufficient 
for  ordinary  individuals,  but  Aunt  Mo- 
riah  would  not  hear  of  entering  the  bonds 
of  matrimony  so  scantily  supplied. 

When  the  appointed  hour  arrived,  the 
bridal  party  marched  into  the  yard,  and 
206 


EVERY  IMAGINABLE  GOOD  THING  TO  EAT 


DONE  GONE  AND  FORCED  ME! 

grouped  themselves  under  the  big  mag 
nolia  tree.  "How  romantic!"  Betty  ex 
claimed.  Surely  it  was  but  fitting  that 
such  should  be  the  climax  of  the  long  and 
constant,  if  at  times  uncertain,  courtship 
of  this  beloved  "ever-youthful"  couple. 

Then  the  ceremony  took  place;  and 
afterwards  the  guests  flocked  around  the 
bride  and  groom,  congratulating  them. 
Around  rows  of  tables  where  the  wedding, 
feast  was  laid,  old  southern  style,  they 
sat  to  eat  and  drink  to  the  health  and  hap 
piness  of  the  couple.  There  was  every 
imaginable  good  thing  to  eat;  cakes  and 
pies,  all  shapes  and  sizes ;  all  meats  from 
turkey  with  cranberry  sauce,  to  'possum 
and  yam  potatoes.  During  the  dinner, 
which  lasted  until  near  dawn,  plantation 
melodies  were  played  and  sung.  Rows  of 
negro  "brothers"  with  banjos  and  guitars 
207 


SIGNS  IS  SIGNS    #    *    *    *    Jj    Jj 

kept  the  atmosphere  filled  with  melody, 
while  several  "sisters"  did  respectable 
"Texas  flings." 

And  Betty,  Agnes  and  Lolita  handed 
around  the  coffee  in  thin  white  china 
cups  with  flowing  ribbons  and  wonderful 
little  cupids  painted  on  them.  One  not 
accustomed  to  such  scenes  would  have 
been  surprised  not  only  at  the  excellence 
of  the  feast,  but  at  the  delightful  success 
of  the  entire  affair.  Finally,  however, 
Lolita  disappeared,  and  she  and  Bert 
were  seen  walking  toward  the  garden, 
arm  in  arm,  where  they  seated  themselves 
under  a  huge  oak  tree. 

"I  allus  is  'zortin'  on  my  weddin'  day," 
said  Aunt  Moriah.  "Them  chillens  is 
gwine  to  git  married  yit;  fo'  signs  is 
signs  1" 

As  the  sun  rose  over  the  hills  the  old 
208 


DONE  GONE  AND  FO'CED  ME! 

couple  said  good  morning,  instead  of 
good  night,  and  went  slowly  down  the 
path.  The  crowd  watched  them,  till  in 
the  distance,  silhouetted  against  the  faint 


light,  they  seemed  to  form  one  being,  as 
they  disappeared  around  the  side  of 
Brother  Sinkiller's  cabin. 

"Yes,  signs  are  signs,"  said  Betty,  "and 
I  think  they  are  generally  happy  signs." 

THE  END 


209 


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RENEWED  BOOKS  ARE  SUBJECT  TO  IMMEDIATE 
RECALL 


LIBRARY,  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  DAVIS 

Book  Slip-25m-6,'66(G3855s4)458 


N9  545913 


Dixon,   R. 

Signs  is 
signs* 


PS3507 

1927 

S5 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


